


It'll Always Be You

by BenevolentFae



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Imprinting, Medical Trauma, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 76,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenevolentFae/pseuds/BenevolentFae
Summary: Bella crashed her truck on the way to confront Jacob, and never found him shirtless in the rain with short hair. She never got to punch Paul in the faceBut he still managed to imprint on her.





	1. Peace Becoming

**Author's Note:**

> Been really diving back into my twilight obsession. Trying different perspectives to practice. Got any prompts or predictions?

The rain beat it's violent rhythm onto the roof of a little red truck, speeding towards the nearby reservation. It drummed over the windows and dripped down the hood, leaving thick trails of mist spraying behind the tires. The girl boxed within the old metal walls fumed at the wheel. She was out for vengeance, and answers, and.. Jacob. Bella was hunting for the second boy who'd vanished unceremoniously from her life, this time without so much as a warning.

' _Man_ ,' she thought through her fury. ' _It's really coming down.'_

And it was the last thing in her mind before the pavement below gave way to an impossibly shallow pool of water. She'd been on the recieving end of many a lecture from Charlie on the dangers of hydroplaning. So she knew, reasonably, what to do, and went over the short checklist that had been drilled into her.

Don't brake; just coast through it and slowly let off the gas. But her foot collided punishingly with the pedal, begging it to slow down.

Don't swerve; lightly steer the direction you want the car to go. So why was she rolling the wheel?

Because the third step was don't panic, and well.. you get the idea.

Like magic, the heavy tin can drifted and bounced over the slickness, swerving of its own accord in a cruel dance. Isabella screamed out a wordless shriek, unfamiliar even to her own ears. Flesh and bones and blood were joggled mercilessly about the cab, and the truck didn't stop rolling until its metal was met with the firm fist of the pine.

  
.......

**_ BELLA SWAN _ **

It's safe to say that by now I'm familiar enough with Death that I can speak about it fairly. It's funny how the mind works in the final moments; how confused it is about the immediate, yet everything else suddenly seems so clear. Firstly, I was sure that I still loved.. Edward, who didn't love me, and so he and his family were gone. I knew I also loved Jacob, but it would never be enough. Finally, I was absolutely certain that to die by the hands of fate was infinitely better than suffering a life without either of them.  
I was much less sure of the sound of a half dozen sniffing puppy snouts reverberating through my eardrums. It was almost comical, given that I'd never thought much about dogs, in the same way that I never thought much about Mike Newton. Instead, I drew focus to the familiar script that sung through whatever was left of my consciousness:

  
_**"Why should I play the Roman fool, and die on mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes do better upon them."** _

_**"Turn, hell-hound, turn!"** _

  
But they did not turn. No, the hellhounds of Macbeth came close enough to reach out and touch. I could run my fingers through the russet locks, if only my limbs would heed direction. Maybe they were gone, my hands. Something wasn't quite right, the whole angle of the world had been shifted drastically. What once stood upright was now sideways, everything amiss. And fire. Somewhere, something was on fire. Maybe these hellhounds were all running from the fire, though one seemed to be taking shelter. Smaller than the others, it was able to crawl through the long crushed space that had previously been a window. His pack errupted into mayhem behind him, snarling fiercely with their pearly canines on full display. All but one, who whimpered and cried while it paced frantically back and forth. I lay awestruck under that wise gaze, his far too human beads of warm brown set on reassuring me. How odd. Monstrous teeth sunk into the tattered brown cloth of my jacket, one that Charlie had picked out to surprise me with when I'd first moved to rainy Forks. The nearest wolf gave a cautious tug, fire singeing the tips of its fur. And then there was pain, seemingly from everywhere all at once, overwhelming my entire being. Blinding, radiating from each vein and up through my throat. The pacing brown hound suddenly joined in the vicous symphony, causing the others to flinch. Still, the large grey wolf continued to drag his screaming catch from the wreckage.

I wouldn't see how he carried me to safety not a minute too soon, or hear the explosion of metal and oil. I'd remember the sirens, vaguely, and deep worried creases on honey-skinned faces. Faces that rested on thick muscles and shirtless chests. The heat, the heartbeats, the familiar feel of drifting through the air in someone else's arms. The flashes of blinding crimson hair in the treeline wouldn't register until much, much later. Until it was too late. I'd forget most of the pain, how it became too much, and how my eyes drifted shut.

Because dying was peaceful when you could forget, and I was finally falling into peace.


	2. Don't You Know I Need You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The early aftermath of Bella's accident. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be playing with POVs for this until I find my rhythm. Sorry if it gets a little repetitive, the later chapters will be much less frantic. Enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer* I'm playing in Stephenie Meyer's playground. She owns it, in just here to have some fun.

_**PAUL LAHOTE** _

Even back in human form, Jacob hadn't stopped pacing. Part of me, a pretty strong one too, wanted to punch his stupid little lovesick face. But there was another small portion, a secret cavern of unopened... Something, and it made me want to pace too. I don't know why I cared; even if I didn't wish the girl dead, she still wasn't anything to me. I chalked it up to wanting answers about the vampire situation, partially hoping that she'd remember everything and Sam would have no choice but to probe her for answers on the enemy. But it was rounding on nearly four hours since Jared pulled that leec llover from whatever was left of her Chevy, and still no word. I hadn't gotten a good glimpse of her, but the shell of a human that came from the wreckage wasn't anything like Jacob showed through the pack link, that's for sure. It was sickening, the stench of burning flesh. Even Jared had a savage scar from the fire kissing his skin, much less a measly human.

It smelled almost worse than the bloodsucker trail we'd picked up. But it seemed we were always a minute too late, two strides behind that filthy redhead. If the way it had hovered near the accident was anything to go by, Isabella seemed to be in the center of it all. First she'd played vigilant pet to the Cullens, and now this? No fucking way was that a mistake. Leave it to Jacob to fall for the one girl in town who was literally in love with our sworn natural nemesis. But, despite the hassle she so obviously was, I really did feel bad for Jake. The poor sap was quaking like a leaf in the wind, and he'd even turned down Emily's cooking. I'd never be dumb enough to refuse free food, but impulsive phasing, at least, was something I could relate to.

"Jake, dude, sit down" I bellowed, my tone slaked with more frustration than I'd hoped. Still, when I patted the floral fabric of the sofa beside me, he took the seat anyway. He relaxed slightly, focusing on drawing in huge huffs of calming air, only to blow them out loud and slow. The trembling of his bones began to soften until he was in full control again.

"She'll be fine," I offered, a small smirk dancing over my lips. "She survived months in a leech den, what's a little car crash?"

"Yeah.. Thanks Paul," he murmured, brown eyes as distant as his voice. I nodded. We sat in uncomfortable silence for a long stretch of time, indulging our separate inward musings. While my mind played at 'what ifs' on what Bella could tell us about the vampires, I imagine Jacob was concerned with what she might be like coming out of this mess. When Emily came around with a heaping plate of banana bread, I felt proud to see my pack brother wolfing down slices with matching enthusiasm.

"Food is a thousand times better when you're constantly starving," Embry chuckled from the corner table, where he and Jared were playing cards. Well, Jared was playing, and Embry was.. telling bad jokes and hemorrhaging money.

"And poker is a lot more fun when you're winning," Jared countered. He waggled his brows as he lay his hand down, baring a straight flush.

"Hmm, maybe I'll give it a shot then," Embry purred back. He splayed an impressive royal flush, swiping the smug grin from our brother's face. It was his usual trick; play dumb and then win big. Emily smiled cheekily from her vantage point in the kitchen, where she'd quietly done the dishes and witnessed the whole thing play out.

Jared shot up from the table in disbelief. "But you were so bad, how did you do that!" He began searching for any leftover slices of banana bread to mend the sting to his pride. When he found none, he gave a playful pout. Emily tossed a rag at his head, but set to work on fixing another snack.

Just then, Sam burst through the door of the cozy cottage, wind howling in from behind him. Raindrops licked a trail from his slick hair to his knees, drying with high body heat. Jacob perked up, hope splitting his lips boyishly. Sam only shook his head, earning a frustrated whimper.

"She's still in surgery," he informed gravely. "Bella has.. some pretty deep burns, and they won't be sure how bad the head wound is unless she wakes up." Jacob snarled fiercely, boring his eyes hotly into his Alpha's.

"WHEN," he exclaimed. "When she wakes up." Emily cast Sam a warning look, concern etched over her marred face. He nodded carefully.

"We hope so. But keep your distance until we know for sure what she all remembers."

A knife would hardly be enough to cut through the tension that steamed over the room. Jacob pushed back against the Alpha order, wishing so desperately to see her. Of course I'd never tell him, but I was always amazed by how firmly Jacob could hold his ground against Sam. His blood screamed of leadership, and every order he had to choose to follow. Or fight. If anyone could fight it, it'd be Jacob, and if there was anyone he'd fight an order for, it was Bella. But in the end, he gave in, as he always did. That awed me even more.

"Come on Paul, you're on patrol." I heaved myself up and shed my Jean cutoffs before jogging obediently out into the night.

  
.............

_**JACOB BLACK** _

Weeks passed, and Sam still had me on a tight leash. Aside from the occasional phone call to Charlie to check up on her progress, I didn't contact her. Physically, I couldn't. It was killing me to stay away from Bella, and my only saving grace was all the sparring Sam had us doing. He wanted us sharp and ready for our next chance at that redheaded bloodsucker. She hadn't been around since the accident, and we still had no idea what she was after, or if she was involved. Somehow Bella had fallen clumsily within the heart of it all, probably a result of the Cullen's influence over her. It seemed the Cullens were the root problem of a lot of things, and both Bella and I had gotten caught in the crossfire. God, I hated those lifeless abominations, and not simply because they had turned me into... This. They had also torn the light from Bella's eyes, her very will to live. For a long time she'd barely managed to just exist in a world without them. She couldn't laugh, or listen to music. She was left without the strength to hold herself together. She couldn't.. love me back. And Bella had to have known what they were. I didn't just envy Edward for how he held her heart, despite being no good for her; I wished she knew my deepest secret too. I ached for her to remember the story, to piece together what I had become. I needed her to accept me, and the wolf blood coursing through my veins. I had to make her guess until she figured it out, and once she did this whole one-sided silence between us would be over. If she could love a murdering, cold sack of death, surely she would be able to accept me.

Agony flooded fierce as a hurricane every day I'd been kept apart from her. Most days, I tried my best to hate her. My brothers were forced to go over list after list on why I should be furious; she never needed me how I needed her, she wanted that leech no matter how much he's destroyed her. Bella was a fool, I insisted, using me to fix the hollow shell of pain she'd become. But I didn't care. All I wanted was for her to be happy, to feel whole again, and I could provide it for her. If only she would let me love her, she'd never have to feel the way she felt after Cullen left. God, I'd never leave her. The pull I felt to her, she was it for me. I'd loved her for so long, felt so much that she had to be my imprint. All I needed to do was see her, and we'd have forever to figure it out.

Today she would be released from the hospital, and Sam vowed that I'd be able to. That is, as soon as her dad gave the word. She probably slept the morning away, finally within the comfort of her own bed, because it was late in the afternoon by the time the phone rang. Charlie's name lit up the screen like a beacon in a long, black night, calling the boats to shore, and I was at their door in minutes. Trembling fingers pushed into the doorbell, and my ears sought out the familiar sounds of her heartbeat. How many times had I felt it against my chest whenever those impossibly pale limbs sought for warmth, or comfort? I'd know it anywhere, the nervous thumping behind her ribs. The thirty seconds it took for Charlie to heave himself off the couch and swing open the door was an eternity of suffering. Sweat pooled in my palms, a lump itching spasmodically in my throat. I cleared it nervously, praying to the spirits that my voice wouldn't crack.

"Hey Charlie," I squeaked, fiddling with the the inside of my back pockets.

"Jake." He motioned for me to step past him, shock swimming in the darkened pools of his eyes. "You look.." _Suspiciously and unaturally Huge. Impossibly bigger._ _Where's all your hair?_ "Different."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Been working out lately." My gaze scanned over the room, searching. Charlie nodded towards the staircase, no doubt wondering if the haircut and the muscles were all part of some newfound teenage rebellion.

"She's in her room, go on up." His face was sympathetic. "I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."

Trudging up the stairs, my legs became lead. As I forced them to carry me further, the heavier they grew, until I was nearly gasping under the effort. Outside her door I stood, face dragging against my palms and sucking in steadying breaths. This was the moment, I'd see her, and it would all shift. The moment Sam saw Emily and their immediate link that brought him to his knees replayed through the pack mind every single day. I knew what to expect, but nothing could prepare me for it. It was Bella, it would always be Bella.

' _Here goes_ ,' I thought, raising my fist. Trembling knuckles rapped lightly against the door, my eyes clenching tight. A voice like lightning zapped straight into my gut, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard anything so beautiful. Her voice.

"Come in!"

The handle turned under thick fingers, my fingers. Time was a foreign concept without meaning, seconds stretching beyond eons. There was blood pounding behind my ears, every nerve ending on high alert for what would happen next. The door swung open, and she was finally right in front of me. Months, maybe years of waiting, every excruciating tick of the clock leading up to this moment. I cracked open one eye, then the other, agonizingly slow, to stare into the carpet. She was in her bed, I knew, but I wasn't ready. She cleared her throat, her voice dry.

"..Jake?"

I dragged my gaze up to hers, and she stared back, and immediately I knew. My knees crashed to the floor, my limp form barely holding itself up. Earth itself pivoted around the static air between our stares, and I knew. My god, I finally knew.


	3. When The Boughs Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Bella, and a whole lot more from our dear sweet Jaker Cakes.

_**JACOB BLACK** _

I loved her like she were the one who crafted the galaxy, eternally grateful that she painted herself in it;

She was the sun, the scorching fire soaking through my skin to warm the shocking chill of reality. The moon, tugging encouragingly at the tides and pulling them back for just one more hug. She was every individual star, the gentle distractios from the darkness of night, an unfathomable cluster of orbiting world's, each so intricate and important not even the most brilliant of scientists could define her limits. It would always be her.

But she wasn't _the one_. The wolf overlooked her, met her gaze and kept on searching. That bastard dog, he didn't even see her! He was busy turning his head side to side, panting and howling, looking for a truer mate. It would always be her, but she wasn't the one..

And I loved her then, like I always had, but now it was killing me. It clawed out my dampening eyes as I fought the impulse to beat my own head with these oversized fists. It drained the blood from my veins as my hopes died out in writhing agony, gutting me alive. There, kneeling before her on her bedroom floor, seemingly hours passed. A fresh day could rise, then set once more, and it'd make no difference. Nothing changed. Nothing would ever change for us.

Here she was, watching me drown and fretting about my recently cropped hair, wondering if I was okay, and I'd never be able to tell her. She wasn't my imprint. My voice croaked, hardly even a broken sob.

"I thought..-"

I thought you'd be my forever. I thought I could be the one 

"Jake. I'm fine, see?" She waved her arms wide, misunderstanding. A broken femur gathered under the violet fabric of her duvet. "Still alive," she mumbled miserably.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat, scooching closer until my chest hit the side of the bed where she lay.

"..What are you doing here Jake?" It was barely a whisper. I'd almost forgotten how badly I'd hurt her. She'd never know that it was to save her from being scarred like Emily. I'd forced her away when she needed me, suffering all the way. The wolf had known all along that I'd already damaged her. We weren't worthy of a girl like Bells, I'd never be good enough for her.

"Look, I'm sorry." Her closed fist fell against my bare chest, pushing firmly so as to hold me back. Inviting warmth seared into her flesh, and she pulled away.

"For what?"

"I want to explain, but I literally can't." I averted her gaze, cowering away from the chocolate oceans that knew me better than anyone. There was nowhere I could hide from Bella, nowhere she wouldn't see me. Instead, they found the familiar sight of a dreamcatcher, one my fingers remembered forging strand by strand. A tiny grin played at the edges of my lips at the fond memory of her birthday.

"Have you ever had a secret you couldn't tell anyone," I urged, fixing her with a knowing glance. Her brows furrowed with guilt. "One that wasn't yours to share? Well that's what it's like for me. But worse."

Bella drew her arms around her fragile frame. The wheels within her mind were set furiously into motion as she pedaled towards an answer I couldn't outright give her. "You have no idea how tight I'm bound."

Suddenly, she drew me as close as her injuries would allow. "I hate this," she poured. "I hate what they've done to you." Tiny fingers tangled into my hair, tugging the short strands. I braced myself against the sting of her words, begrudging the pain I'd caused. She was aching, and would be even after I slipped into the night. I pulled her pale little hand into mine, pausing to note the scar wrapping around her wrist. Had that always been there..?

A sour taste flooded my mouth like a hurricane, washing over the dry expanse of my tongue. Those filthy bloodsucking demons. She shifted uncomfortably, covering it with her opposite hand. But it was there, and it made me sick; a bite mark. Any doubt I had that she knew what they were vanished. The worst part was that she was still covering their tracks. Bella studied my face, seemingly at war within herself. Probably wondering what I knew for certain, and how. I felt the wolf rise up on his haunches, daring me to hold him down while he raged.

"And the killer part is you already know," I thundered, shifting off the floor to pace about the room. I had to remain calm; breathe deep, try not to phase in her fucking bedroom. "Do you remember that day we walked along the beach in La Push?" A tiny sliver of hope returned, sparking low in my gut as she nodded. "Remember the s-.."

The air itself became bricks, heavy and cruel. It grew too thick to form around the words I so terribly needed her to hear. Damn this gag order. Dammit! Please, Bella.. remember what I am, what I told you.

"The story," she murmured, her dark eyes pensive. "The story about the cold ones."

"I guess I can see why that's the only part you remember." A sinking sensation settled over me, my broad shoulders hunching in defeat. Still, something in my face pleaded for her to think harder, to go further back and relive the entire story. Her hazelnut locks swung side to side.

"There's gotta be something you can do," she begged stubbornly. How I wished there was.

"No. I'm in it for life."

"Well maybe we should just get out of here for a while. Just leave." God, I wanted that more than anything in the world. "Just you and me," she said.

"You'd do that?"

"I'd do it for you." I could picture it, us running away together. We wouldn't have much to start, but I had some saved up and knew that she did too. Easily enough to last until we got wherever we were going. I'd sell the motorcycles, get us a place. Something small, not too shabby. We'd be each other's saving grace. And it'd be there, at the end of the world with nowhere else to hide from the truth, that she'd realize she loved me. We'd be happy, raise a family. Maybe two or three babies, not too many that we lost touch. She'd teach us all how to cook while we danced around the kitchen, because she'd finally begin listening to music again.

But the problem wasn't a place, it was inside me. The danger ran in my blood, my ancestry, in the trembling of my limbs, and it would always be there. I'd always be this. A monster.

"It's not something I can just run away from, Bella," I murmured past clenched teeth, shaking my head. "But I would run away, with you. If I could." I hesitated, wishing I could stay here forever. "Look Bells, I gotta go.."  
  
She still didn't understand, because I hadn't given her any answers. Her mind reeled, o could read it on her face like an open book. Somewhat behind her gaze she was replaying each word in an attempt to make some sense. I could hear the worry etching itself into the thudding of her heartbeat, felt it as I drew her into a hug. She did her best, at the awkward angle, to lose herself in my arms. For a split second, there were no supernatural secrets, or lies, or creatures. There wasn't any pain. Only two best friends wrapped up within each other.

But all too soon a howl sounded somewhere in the distance, much too far for her to hear even if I couldn't ignore it.

"Please," I whispered into the crook of her neck. "Try to remember. It'd be so much easier if you knew." Her arms tightened around my waist when she felt me pulling away. It was nearly torture to tear myself from her, but I peeled myself free of her loving clutches. Before I could say anything else another wolf cry broke through the early evening air. The angry, urgent rinnging was enough to send me hurtling down the stairs, through the house, and out the front door at a positivelyy inhuman speed. Vampire.

  
............

  
_**BELLA SWAN** _

  
Everything was different with Jake. Physically, he was still my Jacob, only much, MUCH bigger. Those beautiful strands of hair he'd grown tenderly for years were gone, hacked off carelessly. It aged his round face having it cropped so short.

But he also wasn't that goofy, hopeful boy who'd pieced me back together anymore. His eyes held none of their usual sunshine, all the light he'd radiated so effortlessly seeming to have been leeched out from under that dark skin. He was rougher on the edges, and the open doors to his heart were inexplicably closed off. I knew it had to be Sam and his cult of teenagers. Jacob had said he was.. waiting for him, always looming in the corners like a hungry predator. Shiivers bolted down my spine at the thought of the million things they might have done to change him so drastically. He was so scared of them that he couldn't even tell me in secret. Whatever it was, I had to help him, and Embry too.

But what could I do? Nothing, not like this. I slid the duvet down to my knees, straining not to bend in any way. The deep plum bruise kissed every inch from my belly button, which had collided with the wheel, down the middle of my right thigh. Even turning to reach for whatever sustenance Charlie left on the nightstand was excruciating. Yeah, me and all my pieces weren't going anywhere. If I was to help then I needed to find some way for Jacob to come back. I prayed he'd find a means to sidle away from those monsters and return to me. Until then, it was all I could to worry, wracking my brain against the cages that contained the truth. With a heavy heart I swallowed my painkillers, impatiently waiting for the foggy numbness to kick in.

That night I dreamt of wolfhounds, brown and grey and tall as mountains. They loomed over a twisted, battered corpse with their wise caramel eyes, snarling thunderously at the pale faces dancing in the peripherals. As I drifted in and out of a fitful, frenzied slumber, bits and pieces seemed to connect. By the time dawn rolled out into morning and I woke for the day, the restlessness withered away. Rubbing my eyes, I grasped futilely for the memory of the midnight hauntings, but they had already slunk to the back of my skull, lost and forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long until she figures it out, you think? Also, anything recognizable is directly quoted from. The movies/novels. I don't own it, it belongs to Smeyer (and I hope she doesn't mind that I borrowed it in the name of creativity!!)


	4. On the Mend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time writing Sam, and you might find a lot of this to be OOC. This is something of a writing exerciset, but I live for criticism guys!
> 
> Anyway, here's chapter 4 of that Twilight fic nobody asked for :')

_**EMBRY CALL**_

_'Dammit Jake, what's taking so long?'_

A choir of enraged snarls drifted through the thicket, impatience growing sharper with every Jacob-less minute that ticked by. Jared howled again, hoping to draw him out into the night.

' _Focus_!' boomed Sam, and the heavy padding of paws sweeping the forest floor drowned out all distractions. Our usual formation had shifted, adapting to the hunt as well as the lack of a fur brother. The typical leading triangle; Sam, Alpha, with Jacob playing left hand and Paul at his right. The latter was second in command, and fought with pure, unmatched brute strength. Jacob was the most cunning in battle, natural heir to the throne. He was typically flanked by Jared, the smallest and honorably fastest. He phased almost a year before Jake and I though, so bumping the more experienced wolf back into his original position wasn't too much of an adjustment. That normally would have left myself staggering behind Paul, but I was born to track, gifted even, and so tonight I lead the pack through the trees. That familiar sweetness hung in the air, burning into my snout like acid and red coal embers. But I followed the trail regardless, drawn forwards by instinct and duty and the uncharacteristic urge to rip somebody else to shreds. In my defense, they hardly counted as people anyway. Muscles rippled beneath solid flesh, launching my body faster through the pinewood. I could picture that redheaded thing in my head, see her running and leaping like a cat through the woods. Until the wind shifted, and the scent was tangibly different. The images changed, and there were suddenly.. two of them. They ran almost identical paths, her following behind an unknown intruder as though the female were shadowing the other vampire.

 _'Like, using her stink to mask a different one?'_ Paul thought more sluggishly than usual when he phased. His wolf was hostile and strong, always threatening to overcome him, and he struggled to hold on to logic under the punishing pressure. His wolf left his thoughts were scattered and simple. But the idea was clear; What wasn't so easy to figure out was the motive. We play collectively on what possible reason would cause her to hide a vampire even in the _shadows;_ they'd certainly never been shy before?

 _'Sounds like a lot of work for nothing,'_ Jared chimed in doubtfully. ' _It just doesn't make sense.'_

 _'So she's chasing someone,'_ Jacob declared, finally shifting into the chase. Sam hastily replayed the night, catching him up to speed in the blink of an eye. We'd picked up her scent near the hospital, halfway between the highways leading into town. She'd dodged us entirely by mere moments, but she was close. Frustrated comments made their way through the link, clearly unimpressed that he'd neglected hunting for the leech girl, but only Paul outwardly spoke against him.

 _'Aw Jake, you decided to join us? Hope it wasn't too inconvenient._ ' Jacob bared his teeth, trying with little success to cover what had happened with Bella. Something about a story, and a whole lot of crushing disappointment. Tension shone brightly behind the synchronized tunnels of our vision. Pity that poor Jacob hadn't lucked out with an imprint. We all somewhat silently agreed, deep down as we could, that it was kind of a blessed though. If we thought that his crush on Bella was innocently suffocating now, the unbreakable bond would have actively choked each of to death in an instant. Sam, however was absolutely livid. He shoved that down as well as he could, remaining stoic as ever. There'd be a time and place to punish his attempts to unveil sacred tribe secrets to an outsider, one who favoured the enemy, but this was not that time.

' ** _FOCUS_** ' he ordered, and we welcomed the chance to clear our minds and hunt. We followed the ghost she'd left behind well into the night, crossing state borders until the trail went cold. As a crimson dawn broke over the horizon, five wolfmen collapsed into their beds, spent and unsatisfied.

  
............

_**JARED CAMERON** _

  
"Hey Jake," I chirped, patting his shoulder fondly. He shrugged me off, as he always did since he'd seen Bella. I dropped down beside him on the steps of Emily's porch, watching the rain fall scarcely a foot away. The clouds had been heavy as his mood, lightning evenly matching the angry bolts that flashed haphazardly through him without any discernable pattern. He had done his best to control it, but after countless heated outbreaks of bickering, Emily finally kicked him out with a warning that he better not to phase in her house or she'd beat the life out of him with her soup spoons.

"Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it," he spat, stony eyes dead ahead. I regarded the sunken shell he'd become for a moment, weighing out the risks. He'd heard his fair share of lectures and well meant advice, but that wasn't what brought me out here. There was a lead weight pressing persistently on my mind. Big things, and.. well, it would be better for him to hear it from me.

"I was just going to say," I began with caution. "That it would have been cool if it were her, yenno?"

Jacob perked up, surprise etched across his lips. It was gone quick as it had come. He shrugged, clearly relaxing as he realized that he wouldn't immediately be getting another ' _You'll understand when you meet her_ ' speech. Jacob folded his palms over his knees, clamping his eyes shut and breathing deeply. I opened my mouth, but he beat me to it.

"I already know, Jare." Our eyes met, and I found understanding there. Resignation. I offery an empathetic smile, tipping my jaw towards the earth like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He tapped a finger to his temple. "Thought sharing, remember?"

I nodded slowly, uncertain how to proceed. Would he curse the spirits for taunting him? Was he going to hate me because this rare event he so longed for had not happened to him after so many months of pining, but had occurred immediately for me? I wanted him to be okay with it more than anything, to welcome my imprint with wide, brotherly arms. God, I wanted them all to know her how I knew her. Kim was.. everything. It would always be her, even if she was still taking time to process it all.

"I'm happy for you, honest," he breathed, slicing the tension in my spine to shreds. "You're very lucky." There was a bitterness there, but also genuinity, and that was enough. I beamed at him, though he didn't see.

"I really am sorry, Jake."

"Don't be." His frigid eyes scanned the treeline under furrowed brows, frown deepening. "Not like it's up to us anyway."

We stayed like that for a long time, two very different kinds of silence settling over the faded wood of the porch.

  
.......

  
_**EMILY YOUNG** _

  
The shrill beep of the oven timer spooked me from my reveries. So much had unfolded in the confines of this kitchen, a series of events far too grand for five ravenous young men. Jacob especially was having a hard time. My thoughts had been on my cousin, Leah, and the whole mess with Sam. It was different, sure, but the hurt was undoubtedly same. Imprinting could be the single best or worst thing about wolfhood, it all depended on where the lines had been drawn. Still, they persisted. Each day they faced the weight of life and death, the safety of and entire tribe carried high before their own. They were boys; I could see it in the lingering roundness to their copper cheeks. It was etched in their childish bickering and playful puppy banter, and the constant sparring in the grass. Most of the time they were just teenagers who bore an impossibly heavy load but still needed reminders to wash their hands before dinner. It was the least I could do to help battle their endless hunger everyday, I thought as I pulled an eighth batch of steaming walnut muffins from the tray to the cooling rack. I was vaguely aware of my fingers jabbing the round 'START' button on the coffeemaker. They enjoyed the aroma _(and teasing that it was going to 'stunt their growth')_ more than the actual drink, not that they needed it anyway. Werewolves always seemed to have enough energy to keep up with the relentless patrol schedule, running the perimeter again and again for traces of vampires.

Vampires; that was still so crazy to say! Honestly, it reminded me of when I was a young girl, ages before Sam and werewolves, and whatever other supernatural beings may or may not exist. I would often have this recurring dream, a rather silly one, but my favorite nonetheless. I would drift into slumber and wake up a witch, wise and powerful. I used magic to cope with the burden of everyday realities, petty little things mostly; a house that would clean itself, and a spell that had the test answers glowing in the textbooks. I could fly, and enchant, charm the mean girls into kindness. Emily the witch would stop natural disasters, make animals talk. I was a secret hero in those dreams. In hindsight, I should have known it was an omen, that the supernatural was out there and I was destined for it. I will say, I'm glad to admit I've not yet met a real witch. What a nightmare that would be.

Still, I wished there were something more I could do. Some grand gesture to get the boys out of their heads, and bring a little time more for relaxation into the mix.

Well, I suppose there IS someone who could use a little help..

  
.........

  
_**SAM ULEY** _

  
How could I have said no? When the most beautiful woman in the world, your entire heart and soul, pleads for you to take daily meals for a girl with a cracked pelvis, how do you stomp down her enthusiasm? You don't; you say " _of course, Love, you're so wonderful!_ " Which she was. You promise her that your Wolfpack will take turns personally delivering each one, which they would. When your soulmate wants to do a good deed, you say that it's no trouble since she's cooking enough for a football team anyway.

So here I am, standing on Charlie Swan's porch for the first time since I'd plucked his broken daughter from the woods. I only growled slightly, more of a rumble, as my wide fist beat against the door. I heard the scuffling of work boots against the tiled floor, and the tinkling jangle of the knob as Charlie opened the door wide. He gaped in wide-eyed confusion for a long moment, bracing one hand against his hip, still donning his uniform.

"Sam," he announced simply, clearing his throat. "To what do I owe the pleasure."

I held up a round casserole dish with a tight grin. He quirked his brow as the savory aroma of Emily's home-forged pot pie danced through the thick air between us.

"We've all been thinking about Isabella since the accident. Especially Emily," I explained.

"Well that's.. very thoughtful." He waved an arm to invite me inside, but I politely shook my head.

"I won't stay long, but she was hoping to send a meal down every evening." Charlie opened his mouth to protest, and I silenced him with a raised hand. "Jacob mentioned she usually did most of the cooking, and Billy hinted that we were to avoid your spaghetti at all costs, so..."

The ghost of a grin lit up the tense line beneath his moustache.

"Tell Emily it'll be highly appreciated. Hell, if she doesn't have to suffer through my cooking, Bells might survive this bedrest thing after all."

We both chuckled at that, followed by a long, awkward silence from which I excused myself. Somewhere within the house I heard her wondering who was at the door, and the mumbling of her father as he broke the news she'd be having regular visitors.

When Emily asked later that night, I truthfully told her they were both absolutely thrilled. She did a happy dance around the kitchen as we broke the news to the pack, and nobody had the heart to complain. God, I love this woman.


	5. Winner Winner Wolves For Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some adventures of the Pack as they take turns bringing the Swans dinner. Jared Cameron, Jacob Black, Embry Call, and Paul Lahote. Enjoy!

_**JARED CAMERON** _

  
I rang the bell, dipping the fingers of my free hand into the pocket of my shorts as I waited. My once abundant stash of wieldy, fast-falling trousers had widdled down to this one tattered pair, and my original schedule for the day included a trip to the thrift store. Reasonably, it was the only place that ever had the necessary sizes, ones that would actually fit around a werewolf. For cheap too. I didn't mind so much when I found the shorts sections picked to the bone, knowing I could simply waltz out the door slinging several big bags of jeans instead. Couldn't bat an eye when I was cutting up fabric I'd only paid fifty cents for in the first place. Those plans changed the second I drew the short straw, effectively demoting me from Tribe Protection Services, to personal delivery boy. I suppose with the sudden time crunch, it would do just as well to start scouring the woods for my last eight pairs, but free moments were few and far between these days. Kim admitted to being more than willing to give this thing a shot between us, but was still taking her sweet time processing the news that there'd never be anyone who loved her as much as I did. And that her soulmate supposedly broke out in fur sometimes. A couple texts here and there, the occasional note passed between desks in math class. Other than that? Complete radio silence. The Wolf was itching for more, and the only thing slaking his feral desire to dig up her yard and build a den for our puppies was that I let him out often for a good, long run. Extra 'shifts' working the paw patrol were my only reprieve lately, and I'd taken on more than my fair share of grueling grunt work.

The gruff, disapproving gurgles I assumed sounded from Chief Swan's throat rumbled my eardrums. I could practically see him, grouchy and tired and thumping towards to the door behind which I stood. It was almost comical how blatantly dad-like he was, even before his daughter moved back. I'd always been fond of him. At least, I had since the time he let me off with a warning, knowing full well that I deserved more than that. He'd caught my buddies and I red-handed, racing down the dirt roads behind town. I liked to think he had appreciated that I was the only one who hadn't attempted running when his sirens blared over the gravel, though I doubt he remembered that ancient relic.

The door swung wide as his mouth did, and he regarded me warily for a moment. Guess even police officers forget key details sometimes, like the local wolves dropping in with edible offerings. He seemed to gather his wits before the silence could be considered rude, or worse, uncomfortable. "You're the Cameron boy, right?" he drawled. Well I'll be damned, Charlie wasn't as forgetful as I thought. I coughed to cover my laugh, a sharp bark of a sound. A grin flashed over his face, gone in a blink.

"Hey Chief, just swinging by with the goods!" I held out a plastic bag containing two large sealed bowls. Recognition dawned clear as day in his kind eyes. "Emily'made stew," I sung. She was a stovetop wizard, and her creations were always pure magic.

"Thanks," Charlie grumbled, lifting the bag. He motioned for me to come in, and I beamed at the gesture, following along into the cozy confines of their kitchen.

"It's beef, hope that's okay." I didn't know what they normally ate, but if it was made by Emily Young it'd ruin regular food for them for good.

"Yep," he hummed, popping the 'p' sound. "So listen, I just wanted to make sure- .. we.." he fumbled nervously for the words, and it was clear to see how thick his blood was. The man had hardly gotten to raise Bella through her childhood, but she was the spitting image of his character. He cleared his throat. "Well, I hope that we're not putting you guys out too much. You boys coming all this way, and Emily making the extra grub."

"Nah, Em is always making more than she should anyways," I shrugged, laughing inwardly at my private joke. "Well, I should get going."

"If you say so" He clicked his teeth and nodded, reaching into the dishwasher to pull out the previously used bakeware. "Tell everyone 'Thanks' for me."

"Sure thing!" I called. Without waiting for an escort back to the door, I flung myself down both outdoor steps in one leap, scrunching my monstrous shoulders into my too small car. The one cop who would catch me was digging into the best meal he'd probably ever have, depending on what Emily made tomorrow, so I was zooming back to the reservation for some homemade muffins like I was trying to outrun a demon in heat, all thoughts of new pants tossed up with the dust..

  
..............

  
_**JACOB BLACK** _

  
Have you ever wanted something so badly you'd die for it? Like there's this... Insatiable, all-encompassing craving, felt deep in the tracks where the soul begins, stretching on over miles and miles of your inner self. That was Bella for me. This constant ache had grown so powerful, and lived in me for so long, it had become seamlessly entangled into the threading of my heartstrings. I didn't want her to be a source of pain anymore. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her, even if that meant shoving down my pride, and my feelings, so I could be in her life. She was my best friend. Even though I wasn't her soulmate, she was still, and always would be, my Bella. The love was there, whatever it meant, and I missed her every second of every day. I only wished I could still be her Jacob, the sunshine boy that gathered up her jagged fragments and mended them back together. Instead, I'd become... This. I wasn't good, or safe. I was just another monster threatening her safety each second spent keeping her company.

  
But.. what if she needed me to help her balance life once she was off bedrest? Okay, so she had managed without me for a couple months; that didn't mean she wouldn't at least want me around though, right? I had to believe that she would. There was bound to be heavy, residual trauma at play with her emotions after such a near-death experience. Plus, she could hardly navigate the challenging task of walking without falling flat on her ass before having a bum hip. And damn, that injury was a hot knife wedged in the spaces between my ribs. She'd been coming to see me, and look where that got her. When I thought back on our too-short visit, I realized I'd been so crushed that she wasn't my imprint that I hadn't paid her the due attention. That not only jammed the dagger in further, but twisted and angled it towards my lungs too. While I'd focused on jogging her memory of the Quileute legends, I hadn't even asked her how she was feeling! Was she healing okay, did she need anything? How was she supposed to finish the school year? Bella sat literally broken before me, the most selfless person in the world, and all I'd been thinking about was myself. She deserved better.

Now Sam had me worn thin covering some extra patrols while the pack took turns dropping off meals at the little white house. I swallowed it in stride, and I didn't complain, because I knew that the stunt I'd pulled with her was a severe breech in trust. Not just for Sam, but the entire Pack and the whole tribe too. I'd come way too close to endangering everyone should those leeches come calling for her, and thrown my duty to protect them under a vampire-loving bus. Until I could really keep my phasing in check, I had to stay away from her; no way in Hell would I lose Bella to this monster I'd become. I just hoped she didn't hate me for the distance, for the secrets I had to keep. More than anything, I prayed that it wouldn't remind her of the last time somebody tore themselves from her life...

  
...................

  
_**EMBRY CALL** _

  
I'd never been to Bella's house before, but seeing it so vividly in Jake's mind, and then Sam's, it almost felt like I had. Kinda like Deja vu, but with a werewolf twist. I wiped sweat slick palms over the faded blue fabric covering my thighs, and leaned over the center console for my spare t-shirt. It hadn't occurred until now that I was driving Jared's car without so much as a learner's permit to drop in on a cop, and I was extra relieved I thought to bring top attire. The tight cotton stretched to fit over a complex wiring of muscles that grew too quickly for a boy like me, but I wanted to at least be decent.  
It definitely was not for Bella, I probably wouldn't even see her. But.. we were sorta friends, so on the off chance she wanted me to come to her room for a second and hang out, I'd rather not make her uncomfortable. And it was mostly so her Dad wouldn't feel weird, and the neighbors didn't question why they had been seeing a variety of shirtless native boys come knocking, same time every day. Yeah, hardly even for Bella at all.

Word had gotten around the reservation, quick as a whip, of Emily's meal planning. Charlie's longtime friends had immediately hopped on board, with the Clearwaters all but insisting they prepare a famous favorite in the Swan residence. So here I sat, the savory scent of Harry's fish fry ghosting invitingly over my nose, taunting the ravenous beast in me to swallow the entire bag. Imagining Emily crashing her famous soup spoons over my snout was my only saving grace. She may be the sweetest girl in the entire world, but she knew how to skillfully wield a kitchen utensil for more than just cooking! Paul, naturally was an expert on being the object of her wrath, claiming that the thick wooden ladle was the worst and was to be avoided at all costs. I drummed a snazzy beat on the door, feeling a giddy excitement as I heard the chief of police stomping around inside. The thudding drew closer, until he swung open the door. God, that moustache was so cool. I confidently stretched my free hand out for him to shake, cautious to be firm while not squeezing too tight. Just like my Mama had taught me. Charlie's eyebrows shot through the roof, recognition sweeping over his features as he took in the monstrously sized boy before him.

"Uhh hey officer Swan," I beamed. "Embry."

"No I remember. Tiffany Call's boy." His warm eyes were practically bugging out of his head. He suddenly seemed concerned. "Haven't seen you around Billy's much lately, everything.. okay?"

"Yep, just been busy," I chirped, waving the ginormous paper bag. "Sam sent me." He nodded slow, moving to the side so I could shuffle in the door. I only had to duck my head a little

"You working?" He wondered, a dubious glint in his eye. Rather than explain that I wasn't old enough yet, I shook my head. If I couldn't work, he'd surely know that I couldn't drive either. "Hm."

Diverting the subject, I tried to keep my voice level. "Where's Bella? Think I could go say hi?"

It was a good stretch of time before he answered, seeming to probe my soul for miscreant intentions. "Guess there'd be no harm in it," he grumbled, finding none. He motioned with his head. "Up the stairs, to the left."

I couldn't have controlled my giddy scrambling even if I wanted to. It had been so long since I saw her, and I couldn't even be sure that I made all that much of an impression, but I always thought she was so cool. Bella never cared that we were all younger than her, like most high-schoolers did. Bounding the stairs two at a time, it was Jacob's mental imaging rather than Charlie's clear directions that led me to her room. The doorway was gaped slightly, so I peeked in. I couldn't make out much in the dark space, but the slow, even breathing coming from within a purple blanket cocoon was enough of a clue. She was sleeping. I turned on my heel, dismayed beyond reasonable capacities, and slunk down the staircase.

Her dad's questioning glance glistened beneath raised brows. I shook my head. "Out like a light," I explained, wandering through the lip of the kitchen.

"That's.. good. She must have taken her meds then."

"She doesn't usually?" This surprised me. I'd survived a good deal of breaks and bumps, and even with my ultra fast healing I wouldn't have turned down the aid of a painkiller. Not that it would help, given our unruly metabolism.

"Nah," he shrugged, but I could tell it bugged him. "Says she doesn't like how groggy they make her. Pretty strong stuff."

Flashbacks of the stunt Jacob had pulled danced behind my gaze, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared. Bella must be wracking her brain between doses for the answers that were right in front of her. Sam definitely wouldn't like that when he found out.

A sudden raucous erruption of cheers and hollers blared out from the box TV in the next room over, and we both craned our necks to see who owned the point. It was a pleasant surprise that it was the same game I had been watching before I left the house. Like it was orchestrated by a humorous puppeteer, we reacted in sync; him with a winners fist bump to the sky, and a pained groan from my side of the room. Charlie slid his attention from the screen to my face, an amused grin beneath that scrutinizing gaze. He motioned to the sac, oil bleeding through the paper.

"..Any chance that came from Harry's?"

  
A wide grin broke simultaneously over our lips as the unspoken conversation hung between us. It was hardly minutes later that I found myself rooted to the edge of the plush couch seat, clutching desparately at a cool can of soda. The innings ran nail-bitingly close, and we took turns screaming into the screen as though it could bring up the score in our opposing favors. Somewhere amidst mouthfuls of breaded fish and gulps of soda, night had fallen and Bella's voice called down into the living room. I sprung forwards before her father had a second to realize who had spoken, and there she was. At the top of the staggered flooring, looking equal parts beffudled and relieved, was Isabella Swan. With a timid hint that she needed help down the stairs, I slipped up to meet her, rising from view of a shellshocked Charlie.

"Long time no see, Em," she whispered. I could see the conspiratorial wheels turning as she drunk in my drastically altered build. This conversation was going to be a mess to avoid, not that any of us had a choice.

I felt the cheesy, overly benevolent smile plastering itself on my lips. "Yeah I've been.." patrolling your house for mortal enemies. Vampires, in fact, because I'm a werewolf now. I know about everything, and it'd be cool if you solved the mystery so we could hang out again. "Busy."

One slender brow raised dubiously, but she didn't press. "So how do you wanna do this?" I motioned down over the stairs. I must have looked pretty pathetic when she jutted her hands my way, hands that almost everyone in the pack had thought about in compromising positions at least once, because she smirked.

"Just hold me steady while I go slow," Bella chuckled.

Physically touching her also brought with it new challenges. How would I explain away my temperature to somebody that already had tangible reasons to be suspicious? Perhaps offering to help had been a mistake. It was with steely resolve that I reached for her regardless, deciding to brush it off on her medicated haze should she question it. Not my most kind thought, but Jacob left the rack of options in a pretty scarce state. To my surprise though, she didn't bring it up. If she hadn't gasped like I'd personally burned her, I wouldn't have even known that she noticed at all. I knew then that she wouldn't say anything, at least not in front of Charlie. Maybe Sam would come around about her sleuthing out Jacob's cryptic admittance. It really wasn't such a bad thing, was it? I mean, this was the same girl who had hidden the Cullen's secret without a hitch for months. My wolf was absolutely tickled pink when she asked to sit beside us, and something about it felt just like old times. We all ate our own healthy portions of fish in front of the television, and I basked in the easy banter. It was so unlike it was with my brothers, but in a good way; there were no casual mentions of mortal danger, or crass humor. This was what normal felt like. What watching a game with your dad should be. Pangs of deep-seated anger threatened to spoil the evening, but I refused them. Not tonight, when everything was so blissfully unclouded, when Bella's warmth at my side burned a deep imprinting of comradery into the tattered shreds of my lonely life. She quietly shared the evening and her father's company without so much as a blink, content. Though, perhaps I shouldn't have brushed off the shake of her long hair when lighthearted bets were placed. I was feeling lucky at the time, but in the end I was down five dollars, and Charlie sported a cheeky grin as he patted my slumping shoulder. Something told me all too late that he may have seen this particular rerun before.

Surprise wrestled his playful smile when he glanced at the clock, and he seemed to remember his parental duties. "Should I ring up your place and let your mother know you're on your way?"

"No!" I winced at the suspicious outburst. Bella's attention snapped to me, silent and demanding. Shit. I muttered out the first lie off the top of my head, damage control. "I already texted her."

"Alright," he droned. It was clear he didn't believe it, but felt it wasn't his place to pry. I popped up from the chair, shifting between my nervous feet.

"I better get going, Jared's going to be wondering why I've had his car so long." I slipped on my sneakers, all too aware of Charlie's hovering presence behind me. "Thanks again for having me, Chief. See ya later Bella!"

She waved once, smiling shyly."Bye Em!"

"Call me Charlie, son." His chocolate orbs crinkled slyly in the corner."And come back anytime you're looking to lose a few bucks!"

  
..............

  
_**PAUL LAHOTE** _

  
Bullshit. Absolute fucking crap. If Emily thought she would get me to do this stupid delivery service ever again she... Oh who am I kidding, she'd be right. Even if I could disrespect the hands that feed me, I'd have to get through Sam first. But his fiancé was an absolute saint, and we'd all been roped helplessly into the newest daily addition to our schedule. And so what if I sucker punched a few trees before I came, at least I showed up at all. I should probably knock, but... It didn't sound like anyone was even home. Charlie's police cruiser was gone, all the lights were off.

I fought back the tremors, wondering why in the fuck he wasn't here. Logically, I knew the hours of police work weren't set in stone or anything, but if I made the effort to be here on time was it too much to expect the same courtesy? I'm doing good deeds for a saint, one who expected a full report and the previously delivered dishes, and he couldn't have left a note? Where was the motherfucking courtesy!?

My fist rapped on the door, partially hoping for an answer, but mostly I just needed to hit something. So it left a little crack in the wood, big deal. I was about to turn and bolt, debating leaving the quickly cooling casserole on the steps, or wolfing it down myself in my truck, when I picked up on a sound inside. Quiet, some sort of scuffling followed by a muffled voice. Female. She mumbled miserably in the distance, frustration dripping thickly from each tone. Something about a ' _stupid leg_ ' and ' _stupid animals_ ' eating some ' _stupid hikers.'_

Isabella. Well damn it all, how could I leave now? But.. I couldn't exactly just let myself inside, and she definitely wasn't coming to the door to let me in. I turned towards my truck, preparing to bound down the concrete steps and rummage through the cab for my phone, when she spoke again. This time, it felt an awful lot like she were talking to me, freezing me in my tracks.

"Just come in," she grumbled. "It's unlocked."

And so I did. The slow creaking of the shifting wood was almost eery. I poked my head through the crack, gauging the surroundings. It was a cute home, a little cluttered and lived-in. And, yup you guessed it, otherwise empty. I slipped an arm in first, then a leg. Slowly, I dragged myself limb by limb through the small space until I was fully inside, closing the door lightly behind me. Okay. Just get the dish, leave the food. My eyes scanned for the kitchen, the most likely place for dishes to be kept, finding it easily. Get dish, leave food. Simple. But what if she was hungry.. should I bring her a plate? Suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask.

I crept up the stairs, following her scent to the closed door. I could hear the tender flipping of pages as the consuming smell of old print flooded my nostrils. I tapped lightly on the barrier, hearing a loud tumble of curses and books hitting the floor. Fuck. I hadn't even announced myself, and she probably thought I was a polite murderer. ' _yoo-hoo, I'm here to kill you, may I please come in_?'

"Sorry! It's me, Paul," I winced.

"WHO?!" Right. I may be privy to way too much of her information, but we'd never met outside of the pack mind. _Jesus Christ_ , this was a mess. I cleared my throat, struggling to chill the burning in my cheeks.

"Uhhh, Paul Lahote." Good job, idiot. There was squeezing sensation grasping at my throat, suddenly. "From La Push? I... I brought food. From Emily's." Did she even know who Emily was? I hoped she didn't call the cops. Or maybe that'd be better, because Charlie would rush over and I could escape the hell this entire process had become. Whatever happened to get the dish, leave the food, and get the fuck out of there? I could make out the heavy sounds of confused panting subsiding slightly, though her pulse was still thundering at alarming speed.

"Oh," she whispered warily. "Um, I can't get up."

"I know, I'm sorry," I rambled. A babbled chorus of words tumbled from my lips of their own accord. "You said to just come in, and you sounded pretty frustrated, and I had all this food. I was supposed to get the old dish, and drop off the food with Charlie but he wasn't here, and Emily would beat me to death if I didn't make sure you got it, but then I realized you might be hungry, so I came in and I'm just.. checking. Yenno, if you were.. Hungry, I mean."

There was a long pause on the other side of the door as she processed. If you could be embarrassed to death, this would be the quite the scene for Charlie to return home to. Tension seeped from the walls, soaking the house and drowning me dry. Jesus, dude, you're shaking like a leaf. Get a grip, Paul. You're a Vampire killing machine with the weight of an entire tribe on your back, you can talk to a girl through a doorway without combusting into a ginormous dog... Even if you broke into her house like some food-baring creep and scared the ever-living shit out of her. Oh my god, breathe, jackass.

"Sure.. yeah, I could eat a little."

Relief washed over my oversized body. I excitedly murmured my acknowledgement, bounding down the stairs to make her a plate. I opened every single cupboard and drawer in search of the proper utensils, scooping out a miniscule portion of rice. I topped it with the grilled veggies and the smaller of the two cuts of chicken. Looked fancy. I was practically a chef, the way the masterpiece came together. I even managed to hold back the drool. Emily was the best cook in the whole world. Last minute, I dug in the fridge, pulling out a cool can of orange juice to go with it. I wondered if I'd get major props for going above and beyond. As I sauntered back up to her room with pride, I had to clear my throat from delight to ask permission to enter.

"You can come in," she squeaked. Slipping the juice under my chin so I had a free hand for the knob, I kept my gaze to the floor. I had to dodge a rather wild sea of novels to get to her nightstand, but thankfully she'd already cleared a spot for me to set down the plate. "Thanks," she whispered. I nodded, holding the slick can out for her.

"Welcome," I chirped. Bella met my gaze with curious coffee eyes, and something shifted.

She peered deep into my face, as though she had been staring into it every day for all of eternity. Fire built in my pounding heart, radiating from every nerve ending. I was a vessel, gravitating through the universe, and she was drawing me in. It was a vortex, and I couldn't fight it, couldn't escape. I hurtled through the stars, gaining speed until I burst entirely into flames. It was all so much; too much. My entire being was flung through an all-consuming black hole. I sank weakly to my knees as I burst through the other side, and there she was. Isabella Swan.  
God, she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on. There was a subtle curve rippling through the long tresses of umber locks, and it hugged her shoulders perfectly. Defined edges of her jaw rested below magnificent red lips, a striking contrast against her glisteningly pale skin. Skin that looked so incredibly soft. Pupils of dancing cedar and walnut drank in my stricken frame like one of her novels, and I desperately needed to know what she saw there. I needed to know everything; What was her first memory, and was it a fond one? When was the last time she'd danced, had she always been into reading? What did she want to be, what did she love to do, how often did she miss her mother? I wanted to know every secret, soothe every wound. I'd be there for her if she'd let me, always. Oh god I hoped she'd let me. I wondered what her smile looked like; not the distant image I'd seen in Jacobs thoughts, or the slight, polite pull of her lips now. I ached to see a real, toe-curling, truck-stopping, can't-hold-back beam of sunshine split across her face, so wide and carefree it killed me. I longed to hear laughter bubble from her chest, pouring ceaselessly from her throat like a hurricane. There had been other girls before, but not like this, never so potent. They'd all been wonderful, sure, but they weren't her. Everything shifted, something clicked;

It was her, **it would always be _her_.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it folks, the imprint! How do you think Jakey Boy is gonna take it... #ProbablyNotVeryWell?


	6. For A Rainy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Charlie for ya, sorry it took so long!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to work on each chapter a bit longer to pump out better quality writing, this way I can really fill in all the gaps and tie it together.
> 
> Does adding this throwback/POV change kind of throw off the groove? I'm hoping it doesn't confuse things. Drop a review of what you think!

_**CHARLIE SWAN** _

  
There were few moments that fit the bill to pass as _'the worst day of my life_.' The first to come close fell eighteen years prior.

An uncharacteristically bright morning dawned after countless rainy days, a breath of fresh air wafting into every sunlit corner. The warmth brought clarity, lifting the looming fog over the small den of Forks, offering the promise of possibilities. A girl, young and lively had looked out at the path before her and seen a life farther than this town, than the life she'd already made. The days, months, leading up to it were chock-full of signs, each one pointing unabashedly towards her swift exit. Signs I had shoved down, pleading silently with every withered gaze to make it work no matter what. But it hadn't worked, and no amount of affection could have tied her wild soul to this town. Renee had ripped herself unceremoniously from my life, severing the ties of our future with a hastily packed bag in one arm, and our wriggling bundle of love in the other. Though her words slashed deep into my chest leaving raw wounds that hadn't closed for years, and still occasionally bled, I had handled losing her as best I could. She'd been slipping away for longer than I'd ever admit. Maybe she'd never really been mine, and perhaps she'd always belonged to the sun; to the road, to adventure.  
But the moment that door slammed inches from my tear stricken face, I knew I'd never heal right from losing my baby girl. It was as though the possibility of everything I'd ever hoped for my future had sealed itself away on the other side of that door, and I had stood frozen too long, unwilling to accept the fate of our family. Unable to reach out and grasp it with all that I had.

That had been the worst day of my life.

Until there was a phone call.

A whirlwind of events torpedoed violently through everything that had come to be. It shredded at the new normal, this tiny slice of heaven we had built up slowly since the day Bella came home. Urgent voices swept over hurried instructions, followed by vague medical explanations. _They needed to speak to her father, he needed to get to the hospital._

_There'd been an accident. Isabella._

There was an excruciating series of hours that had followed, filled with trembling hands and unclear outcomes. Information passed on in a never-ending relay; surgeon to nurse, doctor to family, Sam to me to Renee. So on and so forth, again and again and again. Her mother had arrived sometime during it all, late and frazzled and familiar. Green eyes of the earth fell on irises the same shade of pine she'd run from. Suddenly all the hurt she'd wreaked on my heart meant nothing, and there was only Bella, only two desperate parents praying to any and all gods to keep her with us. Begging the heavens not to take our little girl.

Two people searching, pleading, pining for answers. But there were no answers to give.

Despite our tragic differences, we clung to each other's hands like a lifeline, willing life into our one similarity. The one thing we shared.

Professional, hushed tones murmured they were sorry, but we still couldn't see her. _Surgery. Shattered bones, internal damage._

It stretched on that way for days, a bleary-eyed dread settling over the stale air of a hospital room. Battles were fought, scalpels and screws drawn against the nearly irreparable damage done to a body we'd once breathed life into. It had been burned and cut and broken, and, if it were ever to heal, it needed to be burned and cut and broken. The uncertainty, wondering whether she'd wake up, whether she'd get through it, broke me to pieces. But 'nearly irreparable' is something far different from 'irreparable,' and the distinction was one we clung to.

And though it was all that we'd asked for, the days she was awake were worse.

Healing is often said to be more painful than breaking, and that's for damn sure. The agonizing cries of a tortured animal reverberated off pale walls, stretching down long sanitary halls and ricocheted through her ribcage. Through my ribcage, tearing into a heart that beat only for her. Billy's name would occasionally flash in blue across the tiny screen tucked within my slick fist. Fingers I'd run through my hair too many times to count would answer, numb and mechanical. He'd ask for an update, hopeful but weary. Suggest I take a breather when he learned there still wasn't one. There never seemed to be any changes. But behind his advice I could hear the remnant memories of a time he'd been in my shoes, the memories of a wife he'd lost too soon to circumstances such as this, and I pushed it away. This wasn't the same, it wouldn't end the same way.

_Recovery. Bandages over salve over burns. Physical therapy. Walkers._

For weeks that felt like years I held on firmly to a familiar hand, side by side until she had to go. Back to Arizona the moment the doctors told her things were looking up. Renee took her chance, took a flight as she always had, only this time she left that not so tiny bundle of love behind, broken and bruised and mending.

  
..........

  
"Jesus Christ, it's only been a few weeks!" I paced the room, scratching helplessly at my scalp to ease the frustration.

The doctor shot a sympathetic look in my direction, nodding. Grasping the edge of his clipboard patiently, one hand over the other, he drew in a steadying pull of air before speaking.

"If she doesn't start moving little by little she may never get there." The indignant huff from my chest warranted a raised hand, urging me to let him finish. "Nothing crazy today, just from the bed -" he swept his hand, palm up, motioning to the short distance between the two -"to the chair."

"She's not ready," I pleaded, the anguish coming across clear as day in my broken whisper. "She needs more time."

But it was Bella's voice which pulled away at the stubborn tick of my jaw, her gaze thoughtful and strong.

"Dad.. It's okay. I can do it if you help me," she said. Briefly, my mind wandered to another moment, a different time.

_My palm trembled on the handle bar, the other braced behind her back on the seat of the brand new bike. It wasn't like the sturdy red tricycle she'd ridden for years during the summers. No, this one was taller, and lacking the extra balancing wheel; a big girl bike. I cradled her in the safe, sure cocoon of my arms, arms that held her everyday when she was much more fragile._

_"It's okay dad," she said, her tiny voice wavering only slightly. "I.. I can do it this time. You just have to give me a push!"_

_And so I did, launching her down the hill on the little blue bike. I glanced at the training wheels as her feet hammered at the pedals, pushing her further, faster, and eventually away. Her form fluttered side to side for a moment, and surely she was going to fall..._

_Except she didn't, and she never did again. She pedaled down the hill, her spine straight as a whip under the bulky shell of her helmet, peeking back for just a second to flash a snaggle-toothed grin wide as the sun. Relief and pride pooled in the confines of my chest, spilling over abundantly into a loud cheer. There she goes, my big girl riding her bike by herself._

  
_"..Okay," I whispered, painfully torn back to this moment. "I've got you Bells."_

The doctor watched the exchange, a mask over his features to hide whatever personal emotions he may have had. He nodded again, once, slowly, clearing his throat. "Okay! So let's get you ready, huh?"

Shuffling to the side of the bed between the short armchair, he offered the broken girl a firm hand to help shuffle her to the edge. Bella winced, her muscles and bones protesting every millimeter she dared to scuffle. At the flick of his hands, I took the doctor's place, bracing my arms around her elbows as he had done. The chocolate eyes peering up at me, a shocking mirror of my own, filled with confidence. She hesitated for only a second before fixing me with a determined stare.

"Don't let go, Dad," she whimpered.

"Never, Bells." I hoisted her up, teeth digging sharply into my lower lip at the agonized cry she tried, and failed to bite back. Her form sagged heavily, but I held her steady, willing all my strength into her. One step, then another.

Her shoulders shook against mine, unimaginable pain overwhelming her senses as she fought for air.

"Breathe, Bella. One step at a time."

Another step, and one more, smaller than the rest.

"You can do this," I pushed, braving the fight ahead. Sweat beaded in thick drops across her forehead from effort, soaking through the cotton flannel over my chest. "Just a little further. You're strong enough for this."

She dared for another, begging her legs to carry her the final step before she caved into the deep seat of the armchair. Tears licked into the residual scar at her cheek, triumphant and relieved. I watched as she dug her nails into the olive fabric beneath her, as though she couldn't believe it were really there, that it were really over.

"You did it Bells," I praised, a proud smile splitting wide beneath my damp eyes. She shook her head, refusing herself the victory.

"Help me get back, Dad."

After a few uneasy minutes of rest, she braced herself at the edge of her seat, her face scrunched up in grim anticipation, and I reached for her again. I hoisted her up once more, and the fight forwards began again all too soon.

  
..........

  
"Yenno, I can always sleep on the couch." The bitter words barked out between clenched teeth, as she climbed each agonizing stair one by one. I chuckled meekly from behind her, a hand braced against the base of her spine in support.

"You're already halfway Bella, you may as well go all the way up."

She groaned, gazing helplessly up the rest of the stairwell towards the hallway leading to her bedroom. Her own bed. Home. It ignited a fire in her, and the determination steeped within every inch of her body. Straightening her back, she released the gust of air from her gut I hadn't realized she was holding in. "Okay," she breathed, more to herself than to me. "Let's do this."

Ambling up the wood, step by step, she let out a victorious whoop as she reached the top. A long, slender finger jabbed down at the air towards the staggered flooring she'd climbed. "Take that!"

I steered her towards her bedroom, pausing in front of the doorway of the shared bathroom if she needed to go, but she shook her head. Excitement bubbled over as she fought the urge to wiggle, a battle she'd been half winning since the doctor said he was sending us home. As she reached her bed, turning her back to the mattress to sink back as gracefully as she could, she sighed.

For the first time in weeks she was completely, and utterly content.

The animalistic grumbling in her belly split through the moment, a frown creasing the edges of her lips. Food. Something she'd grown so accustomed to making, but hadn't thought of as a complication until now. I could hardly make spaghetti, burning the water before ever chancing to spoon cold sauce over undercooked noodles. With a sigh, I met her concerned stare.

"Pizza, burgers, or Chinese," I rattled off, earning a high cocked brow.

"Pizza," she nodded, decidedly. "Definitely pizza." I grinned back, allowing the familiarity to wash over me. Bella was home, finally. It was a steep learning curve, and everything was already different, but she was here. Where she should have been all along. A faint memory tickled at the back of my brain, and I felt the inward pulling of my brows.

"Oh," I tossed carelessly over my shoulder. Jake's been asking to come by."

I almost missed the scowl. Almost.

A weathered sigh slipped past my lips before I could think to hold it back, shoulders hunching into the forthcoming admonishment. Jake hadn't been around a whole lot lately, and something had kept him from stopping by the hospital. I wouldn't pretend to know what was going on between the boy I'd watched grow up and my daughter, but it was impossible to mistake the way he looked at her. The way he'd always looked at her, even from childhood. When that Cullen boy took off without warning, it'd been Jacob who'd stitched her back together into somewhat of a function human being. His company was her saving grace, and it was a swift kick to the gut seeing how she'd been when he'd stopped coming around. But that felt like ages ago, and whatever had happened he was clearly dying to get past. Bella, however, had shut him out. From where she'd been found, halfway between his house and ours, I gathered enough to tell she'd been on her way to see him. But she'd never made it, and the anticipation to see him had burned to nothingness right along with her little red truck.

"You gotta forgive him some time, Bells."

She rolled her eyes, something she didn't often do when it came to Jacob. Her sour tone held a finality in it, as though she refused to say anything more on the matter.

"I tried that, look where it got me," she blurted. "He had plenty of time before this to answer my calls."

I didn't miss the way her top teeth worried her lower lip, a faraway look beneath her gaze. With a curt nod I excused myself from the room, trotting down the stairs to order the pizza.

Afterwards, I figured there'd be no harm in ringing up Billy, or telling him we were home. It could have slipped my mind to mention Bella wasn't taking visitors, probably due to the sound of a door banging on the other end of the line as someone rushed from the house, earning a throaty chuckle from the two of us.

  
............

  
The firm pulsing of a fist on the door pulled my attention from the television, eyes sliding begrudgingly from the dull action of a second inning. Briefly thinking back on the ten minutes I'd been in the house, I confirmed we hadn't ordered food, and there wasn't anyone due for a visit. Curiousity had me rising from my recliner, while age and exhaustion protested each movement. With a promise to return, to finish what little relaxation I'd enjoyed, I set a half empty beer can on the chipped oak coffee table. A single icy tear slipped from the side of the metal, falling wistfully to the wood. I reached over the seat as an afterthought, clicking mute on the remote to silence the rhythmic sports narrative pouring from the TV speakers. I sauntered heavily towards the source of disruption, automatically smoothing the rumpled cotton of my uniform before reaching out to the doorknob.

Of all the people I guessed it might be - Billy, that Newton boy, a Jehovah's witness - I hadn't expected Sam Uley. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, his steely black eyes boring into mine the moment I flung open the door. I gaped for a moment too long, wincing inwardly before sliding on a professional mask of indifference, letting the hand that wasn't clutching the knob fall to my hip.

"Sam," I murmured, clearing my throat of the raspy gruffness. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

That sounded much more polite than ' _I'm tired as hell, couldn't you have just called?_ '

It was then that I noticed the red ceramic dish in his grasp, a heavenly aroma filling my nostrils. It had been too long since I had a home cooked meal, and part of me hoped he'd hand that thing over and get on with it. That part of me was, apparently, very crabby today.

"We've all been thinking about Isabella since the accident," he stated, though I wasn't completely sure who 'we all' was. "Especially Emily.

And despite the constant revolving door of people wondering how she'd been - at the store, at work, apparently at my doorstep - I still hadn't quite figured out what to say. Do you thank someone for having thoughts, and if so, how does one do that without sounding.. Simple?

"Well that's... Very thoughtful." _Yep, atta boy Charlie, you've outdone yourself this time._ As I waved him inside, my tired limbs screamed, begging him to see the hesitation in my eyes and deny the offer. I owed this man my soul for what he did for Bella months ago, but it had been a terribly long day. The thought of putting my feet up caused a thick wetness to pool at the back of my throat, but I shoved it down, along with the happy dance as he shook his head.

"I won't stay long," he insisted politely. "But she was hoping to send a meal down every evening."

Genuine shock plastered over my features at the generous offer. At first glance, the idea of it seemed like we were asking too much, even though we hadn't asked at all. It would surely be a burden, given the time of preparing a meal and dropping it off so far out of their way. But my motion to protest was cut off by the firm raising of an open, russet palm.

"Jacob mentioned she usually did most of the cooking," he explained sheepishly, realization dawning on me. The instigator, or at least a major driving force had been Jacob Black, and my heart warmed to the idea immediately. "And.. Billy hinted we were to avoid your spaghetti at all costs."

A wicked grin lay slightly beneath his stoic features, matching my own at the fond teasing.

"Tell Emily it'll be highly appreciated," I uttered with a gracious nod. Tension rolled from my limbs as I humbly accepted the dish. "Hell, if she doesn't have to suffer through my cooking on top of it, Bella might survive this bed rest thing after all!"

His easy chuckle filled the doorway, pulling one of my own from my chest. The comfortable moment faded just as quickly as the laughter, followed by a drawn out silence. Nervous energy buzzed between the two of us, until he excused himself into the night. I watched him climb into his dilapidated truck, the engine roaring to life as the door clicked firmly into place. I lifted the lid to the dish in my arms, coming face to face with a tantalizing aroma of creamy vegetables and meat, all tucked away in a pie crust.

The promise of more home cooked dinners in our immediate future left a lightness in the evening, as one battle of the many we faced lifted from my shoulders.

"Dad?" Bella's voice drifted easily down the stairs. "Who was at the door?"

With a cheeky grin, I made my way up the stairs to spill the news. She was hesitant at first, wary of having Sam around so much, but she gave in at the steamy opening of a red ceramic lid. Like kids in a candy store, we clasped our eyes shut and inhaled the beautiful smells, delighting in the pure knowledge we wouldn't have to brave my kitchen creations.

  
...........

  
There was a steady flow of strangers at the door for a little over a week, and it was finally blurring past the line of awkward encounters to normalcy. The boys were always polite, arriving dependably, like clockwork.

First had been Sam Uley. The looming intensity in his kind eyes hadn't faded a bit in the few months it had been since I'd seen him. Since he'd plucked a broken shell of what once was Bella from deep in the woods. He'd sent the Cameron boy the next day. His was a face I'd vaguely recalled from somewhere, and had struggled through the entire short exchange to place the memory. It was only halfway through a second portion of the stew he'd arrived with that I recognized him as the overgrown version of a spunky little troublemaker, way back when on a dusty gravel road.

The boy who'd come the day after was a breath of fresh air, one who'd toddled alongside Billy's own son constantly from the time they were in diapers. It was a hushed topic among the local gossip how his mother had birthed the son of a nameless married man, one that was carefully swept under the rug to protect Embry. Billy had stepped up as a mentor from day one, his own son being the same age, and half of me always wondered whether there was an underlying reason. But I never asked, and we never talked about it. Even though he'd sprung up an additional six feet in height, and had bulked almost as much as Jacob himself had ( **seriously, _what_ are they feeding these boys?**!), he still bore the same shy, lopsided grin he always had. With how often I'd been around that little red cottage, the boy's presence was a familiar occurrence, despite how little we'd conversed ourselves. So when his eyes had darted to the TV at the same moment mine had, it was second nature to invite him to stay for dinner. The fact that it was a crowd favorite among the Swan household was a welcome treat, along with the five bucks I'd won off the gigantic teenager who dared to bet against the Mariners.

It came as no surprise to hear the reservation had boomed with the news of Emily Young's meal train, and that there were offers left and right to hop on board with a dish of their own. It was a genuine hospitality that flowed naturally and abundantly in La Push, one I'd witnessed personally several times growing up with Billy, Harry, and Quil. As friends and relatives would pass away, or babies were born, families far and wide would step up. Tender, heartfelt parties occurred regularly, every surface covered in lush trays of various comfort foods, and friendly faces arriving to help out in whatever way they could. To be there when times were tough seemed somewhat traditional in the Quileute tribe, and the reservation had immediately been buzzing with news of the accident. Concerned calls had filtered in faster than the voicemail knew how to keep up with.

Still, it was a welcome change to the isolation suffered from a month and a half spent in a hospital room. To see the physical manifestations of a community who cared about Bella and I was uplifting, to say the least. Despite his relationship with Bella being a major influence on the entire thing, Jacob Black kept his distance. Whatever it was that was holding him back from visiting, I assumed my daughter had a huge role in it, and I often wondered aloud if she'd ever forgive him for the things he'd said or done. By the third day at home she was coming downstairs regularly for meals, my arms her support brace as she hobbled down each step. We'd watch some TV and she'd take down messages from the answering machine on the yellowing pages of an old notepad she'd found. I think she mostly just enjoyed being in the kitchen again, doing something helpful even if it wasn't to the same extent she'd grown accustomed to.

After the fourth day, it was usually the same young man to arrive at the door, his cutoff shorts barely big enough for his bulking frame, and a t-shirt stretched to the brink over defined muscles. He bore similar resemblance to Sam Uley, perhaps relatives, and he was always overly polite. The first time he'd come I'd missed him entirely, having only scarcely enough time to shout up the stairs to Bella that I was needed down at the station. I tugged the vest and badge over my dark navy blue work shirt, zooming down to the lumber yard where another man had fallen victim to the predatory animal plaguing the town. As always, we were much too late, but hoping to catch the creature nearby. As usual, we found wolf tracks, larger than any I'd ever seen leading off into the nearby trees, following them until a little before dark with our guns drawn warily.

When the sun drifted below the horizon for the night, the search party drifted home. We drug our fingers through our hair, palms pressing at our eyelids in a frustrated show of defeat. Whatever this thing was, it was getting closer to town, and there still wasn't anyone left alive who'd seen it. Paperwork piled high as the list of victims grew, and an uneasy chord was left thrumming in the pit of my gut, hoping we'd soon lay this whole mysterious ordeal to rest.


	7. Tear Me To Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Bella's view of things. Also, have I disclaimed yet? I hope you all know I dont own a thing but these words right here. Characters belong to Stephanie Meyer

_**BELLA SWAN** _   
  


I awoke to the loud bark of boisterous laughter drifting up the stairs, a sports caster droning on as he offered a simplified play-by-play of each moment. I could partially make out the distant mumbles of my father offering someone a soda, and a surprisingly familiar voice graciously accepting. The sharp clicking of the metal as they cracked open their cans was barely audible over the racket of the TV, followed by a groan from my father and a cheer from the visitor. Hardly giving myself time to rub the remnants of sleep from the corners of my eyes, I reached deep into the drawer of the nightstand beside me for an elastic, pulling my hair into a loose ponytail. I wiggled my way to the edge of the bed and lowered my aching legs to the floor, deciding to venture into whatever scene was awaiting me on the couch before I could talk myself out of it.

Eyes momentarily drifting to the walker opposite the nightstand, I scanned the room for a moderately clean sweater that wouldn't look too ridiculous paired with the loose charcoal sweatpants I sported. By pure luck alone, there was a black pullover hoodie hanging from the closet door. One I wouldn't have to try bending to reach, because Lord knows I'd end up flat on my face with a broken nose if I so much as tried. It was a graceless adventure, hobbling from the bed to the walker, using the nightstand to support most of my weight. The major bulk of my weight braced on the rectangular frame, and I scowled inwardly. I crept my way across the room to the closet, slipping the sweater over my hair and down my body. As I leaned against my portable support, I imagined I looked exactly how I felt, which was very much like a little old granny. Hell, even my Gran was faster. Still, I put one foot in front of the other, shuffling towards the door, then through, until the wheels lined up with the edge of the stairs. Peering down at the declining path, uncertainty took over, and I knew the only way I'd make it down on my own was sure to send me straight back to the hospital.

"Hey dad," I called nervously, worrying my lip between my teeth. I wondered if he'd even heard it over the volume of the screen before him, but let out a relieved breath as the scuffling of feet over hardwood pattered closer. The air caught sharply in my throat as an unexpected face poked into view. Though he had changed drastically since I'd seen him last, his face was unmistakable. Caramel eyes and sturdy brows, his defined jawline revealed from beneath a thick layer of youthful roundness. Where he'd once been tall and gangly, thick muscles rippled beneath a too-small shirt, and the flowing locks he had sported were cropped short.

"Hey Bella," he murmured sheepishly, kicking his toes into the floor and adverting my shocked gaze. 

"Embry.. Hey." What could he possibly be doing here, in my house.. Watching a sports game with Charlie. Did that mean Jake was downstairs too, sitting in silence? 

"Bella," my dad called out gruffly, having not moved from his chair. "You need something?"

Suddenly, I felt like an intruder. I was crashing their party uninvited, even if, the I had every right to be there. I briefly debated saying I had just been curious who was over, or thirsty, before locking myself back in my room, but I hesitated. It had been a long time since I'd done anything relatively normal, and with Jacob out of my life until I could solve his dumb riddles, I really did miss having company. As much as my Dad had remained my rock through this whole thing, he didn't quite substitute being around friends.

"I was thinking of coming down," I offered, giving him the not so subtle hint that I required assistance. Before he could respond, Embry was taking a timid step forward, mouth widening around an automatic urge to help hardwired into his very being.

"You need a hand?" He prodded. I nodded, dubious eyes surely portraying my hesitance. "I could help if you.."

He trailed off shyly. And maybe it was the familiarity; the remnants of a boy who used to sit beside me in the dimly lit garage outside a little red house, taking turns grabbing the sodas and teasing Quil about anything he let fly from his mouth. Maybe I wanted to believe that whatever secrets Sam had them hiding weren't so bad. That perhaps these boys I'd grown so fond of were still good, despite what Jacob said. I realized that I didn't mind, not Embry at least, and when I didn't turn him away he trotted up the stairs to where I stood. Intense heat rippled off his skin, the same way it had from Jake the night at the movies. The same way it had when he'd come to explain, leaving me with nothing but more questions. Questions about Sam, and his faithful followers, about how they possibly knew what Edward and his family really were. There lay a chest of sealed away secrets, one that Embry himself had the key to.

"Long time no see, Em," I whispered, though I wasn't sure why. He grinned, wide and boyish like he hadn't noticed the hush in my voice.

"Yeah, I've.. been.. Busy." He fumbled for an explanation, almost like he had physically choked on the words. Almost like Jacob. "So, how do you wanna do this?" He made a gesture towards the steps, unkempt eyebrows pushing high above his eyes as he waited for my cue.

"Just hold me steady while I go slow," I shrugged, offering him my hands. His kind gaze widened considerably, darting between my face and my palms as though he were waiting for me to announce I was joking. Part of me wondered if he'd ever held a girl's hand before, and I chuckled low in my throat at his innocence. It seemed rather disproportionate to his muscular frame. He bristled at the sound of my light teasing, and it was enough for him to snap out of the worried daze he'd fallen into. Fixing mine with a serious look, he lifted his own hands to wrap firmly around my wrists. A heady gasp tumbled from my lips at the overwhelming heat, and I clutched his arms tight. I searched his face as he hastily turned away. It was amazing, almost superhuman, that someone's skin could be so.. Impossibly hot. His eyes bore down into our joined flesh with such ferocity that I knew he were trying not to let his gaze travel further up, as though it'd give him away. Whatever he was hiding, it connected to Jacob, and I vowed silently that I'd find out if it was the last thing I did.

But for a single night I let all the puzzles and pain drift away, sitting side by side with Embry like old times. I watched Charlie's eyes bug out of his head watching Embry wolf down ungodly amounts of Harry Clearwater's famous fish fry, and had to stuff down mischievous chortles while they placed bets on the game. It was a welcome change from the ever-present dreariness following the accident. Charlie pushed above and beyond reasonable expectations, but he'd been stretched thin taking care of my every need, something we'd grown past as infancy had come and gone. The pressure of it all, work, medical bills from extensive surgery and an extended stay, on top of the mundane everyday needs was getting to him. He hid it well, but I could see it in the telltale wrinkles on his brow, and the darkened patches beneath his eyes. It was a heaviness that left me half-heartedly believing I was a burden, despite how vigorously I tried to push those thoughts down. But the way Charlie's eyes danced with genuine joy was enough to lift every weight off my shoulders for a night, and as Embry finally sauntered off into the night five bucks lighter than when he'd arrived, I knew I'd sleep peacefully for the first time in months.  
  


...........   
  
  


Charlie only had enough time to call a rushed goodbye up the stairs, the jangle of his belt as he holstered his gun and straightened his uniform echoing through the house even after he slammed the door. There was an emergency, another animal attack, and they needed him down at the station. Living smack at the heart of a woodland paradise where animals were free to dip down the mountain and pillage the town at night, it was no surprise to anyone else that one might stick around. A cougar, or a grizzly could easily tear apart a few civilians who happened upon the wrong place at the wrong time. But I knew better, and that it was third one in less than a month only further confirmed my suspicions; vampires. My first thought was maybe one or two nomads passing through. I assumed they were lingering longer than they should now that the area was.. Unclaimed. But then Charlie had offhandedly mentioned that the hits were spiraling closer to home, and flashbacks bombarded my sanity. The pavement beneath blackwall tires, seemingly harmless yet anything but. Pinewood, drifting dangerously close, beckoning red metal despite my best intentions. Red hair, dogs, and fire. I could pick out the details with blurry precision, and immediately I knew who my father sought out in the woods. 

_Victoria_.

As memories of the accident continued to flit to the foreground of my consciousness things grew increasingly clear _._

_The flicker of red in the rearview mirror, and the unsettling feeling of being watched all along the highway. An unease that I'd shoved down the whole ride, and forgotten in the chaos of my furious search for Jacob and the wreckage I'd found instead._

But Charlie had murmured something about paw prints in the dirt at each crime scene, wolf tracks, and it had temporarily thrown my entire theory out the window. I remembered the mountainous hell-hounds of my dreams in the weeks after the crash, and how vivid it all had seemed. A painful shiver ran down my spine at the thought that maybe they had been real. I suppose it would be just my luck to survive a horrific car crash, and an explosion, only to be eaten by wolves.

But I hadn't been eaten, and dreams were just that. Without a doubt, it had to be her. Victoria was one of the many things left unsettled since the Cullens fled Forks, and it was always only a matter of time before she came calling. They were a vengeful species who mated for life, and I knew she'd come, spitting blood and fire to take what she believed I owed her. The fact that she was taking her time, slowly getting closer, only proved one thing;

She was _toying_ with me. 

When the inevitable attack happened, she wanted me shaking in my boots, cowering in fear, waiting for her, hoping to hide for just one more day. But what she didn't know was that I didn't have anything left to lose. So I sat patiently, testing my legs every so often, biding whatever time I had left in peace.

***BANG*BANG*BANG***

The wild thumping at the front door struck me like a surprise bucket of ice water to the back. The chill wrapped around my throat, squeezing, as brilliant flashes of fiery red danced behind my eyelids. I imagined her mauling a hiker, luring my father from the house so she could rip my heart out in peace. Taking a calming breath and shaking it off, my eyes frantically sought out the clock. Warmth returned to my limbs, along with air to my starved lungs as I realized it was probably one of the Quileute boys with more food. 

The immediate predicament eradicated the hovering threat of Victoria in seconds, as I realized I had no way to get to the door. No way to let whoever was on the other side know someone was home, but Charlie had to work. A burning frustration pulled the rug out from under my feet, surprising me in its sudden overcoming of my patience. My eye caught the withered pages of the tall stack of books on the nightstand, and I reached for one, impulsively hurling it across the room. A curse slipped from my lips when it knocked into the wall opposite the bed, and I helplessly watched the bookmark slide from its carefully chosen spot.

"Why is my **dumb** broken hip attached to my _stupid_ legs," I growled, ignoring how silly I sounded and focusing on the anger. "And of course Charlie had to run off now because he thinks some _stupid_ animal ate some _stupid_ hiker who shouldn't have been in the woods anyway!"

Several scenarios played behind my tightly clamped eyelids, and I pinched my brow. But no amount of concentration would cut the cords tethering me to this bed whether I liked it or not. I couldn't answer the door, and I willed whoever was out there to notice the missing police cruiser, to wonder if I were home.

"Just come in," I pleaded to no one, my gruff voice filling the empty room. "It's unlocked." Palms pressed roughly at my temples, ears perked in hope that the door would swing open and somebody would call out my name. But there was only silence that followed, and I let my lungs deflate in miserable defeat. There goes supper, I mused. To make matters worse, the book I'd been reading was across the room on the floor, and I had nobody to blame but myself.

Coincidentally, the novel that had been second in line on my reading stack was a classic; Macbeth, and it called out to me. I flipped through the words without really seeing them, searching clumsily for one line in particular, a series of dialogue about hell-hounds. The paper rustled deliciously beneath my thumb as it bent gently at the middle, propelling page after page. The minor burst of wind broke gently against my face as I peered into the thin, uniform text. Ha, there it was!

I bristled at the light, unexpected tapping on my bedroom door. The tiny sound had my spine rocketing to attention from its relaxed slouch. My arm flung wildly to the side in a jerky, panicked motion of immeasurable force, crashing into the nearby stack of books and sending them tumbling to the floor. As my heart stopped cold, a flurry of words tumbled past dry lips, like my body was caught in a stalemate between instinctual reactions; fight or flight.

"Motherfucking-holy-shit," I hissed, realizing again that I couldn't run, and I sure as hell couldn't put up much of a fight. If the killer hadn't found me yet, they definitely knew where I was now. Every nerve stood on edge, each hair prickled; Victoria had finally come, and I had been a fool to think that she wouldn't. Death was literally knocking on my door, courteous enough to give me a heads up before the inevitable torture to come. Oh god. Oh god Charlie. I was about to die, and all I could think about was my dad, and how he'd done everything for me and I wouldn't be around to thank him for it. He'd be all alone, again. I'd never get to say goodbye, I'd be gone by the time he came home. He'd never know how much he-

"Sorry," a deep voice winced through the thin wood. It didn't sound like Victoria..? "It's me, Paul." 

The finality in the mystery voice left me reeling, mentally rattling off every face I knew with its matching name.

"WHO," I cried when I came up completely blank. I heard the gritty clearing of a throat on the other side of the door.

"Uhhh, Paul Lahote," he choked, the phrase more of a question than an answer. Still, I accepted that dying an ordinary death by a trespassing murder named Paul was infinitely better than at the torturous hands of an estranged vampire.

"From La Push." My jaw fell slack. "I- I brought food... From Emily's."

And just like that I felt foolish. The flush that crept up my cheeks washed down my chest and straight to my toes as my heart hammered against my chest. I was genuinely losing my mind, all sense of reason and logic kicked to the curb right along with it.

"Oh.. I can't get up," I stated, hating myself the moment it came out of my mouth. I was an idiot simpleton. Of course he knew I couldn't get up, it was why he let himself in. It was why the entire reservation was chomping at the bit and coordinating to bring us food every single day. But I was out of words, I mentally berated myself for displaying a lifetime's worth of idiocy in the span of one minute. The silence seemed to warrant an avalanche, each word tumbling hurriedly over the next as his rich, deep voice fumbled to explain.

"I'm sorry! You said to just come in, and you sounded pretty frustrated, and I had all this food," he rambled, barely a breath between each word. "I was supposed to get the old dish, and drop off the food with Charlie but he wasn't here, and Emily would beat me to death if I didn't make sure you got it, but then I realized you might be hungry, so I came in and I'm just.. Checking." The voice hesitated, seeming to lose steam as it chugged along. "Yenno, if you were.. Hungry, I mean."

I let myself pause, absorbing each word until I froze at the implications. He'd heard me. Somehow, through the house from on the porch he'd caught my voice well enough to note the frustration, and to follow the exact directions. Words I'd muttered quietly to myself moments before into an empty room in an empty house. This wasn't an entirely new thing to me, to be heard clearly from great distances. But my experience secluded to one particular family, one single species of superhuman nature. Never from a human, and certainly not from anyone who came from La Push.

Two things were instantly clear;

The first was that the man at my door was not human, at least not entirely, though I didn't know what he was.

The second was that I had few options, and each one held a drastically different outcome. I could either run from it, hide away and send them along without ever daring to know. Or I could find out by any means necessary, and hopefully find out the answers I needed to save Jacob. It was a choice that made itself, one I couldn't turn back from.

"Sure," I chanced, bracing myself as best I could against the unknown. "Yeah, I could eat a little."

"I'm gonna go make you a plate then," he chirped with an excitement I hadn't anticipated, feet slapping loudly at the floor as he trotted off with glee. I could hear the wild rattling from the kitchen as he searched for utensils, either checking the same drawer a hundred times over, or pawing through each and every one. I sucked in a slow breath, focusing on the pull of air to clear my mind. Where would I even begin? If I was going to get anywhere, I'd have to think clearly and act deliberately, noting anything out of the ordinary. He could be a vampire, though it seemed highly unlikely; the Cullens had been adamant that the nearest coven was in Denali, and, given Jasper's struggle years after being turned, a newborn would have little to no control. 

The steps groaned under an unseen weight climbing the wood, and all too soon there was a polite clearing of a throat mere feet away. I smoothed the covers over my legs, straightening my t-shirt before tucking the loose strands if my hair quickly behind my ear.  
  


"You can come in," I managed, my voice an unfamiliar squeak. I could do this, I would. Frankly, Jacob's friendship depended on it, maybe even his life, and I didn't have a choice.

  
There was a quick shuffling of feet behind the door as he adjusted whatever was in his hands, causing a shrill metallic scrape of cutlery against the plate. Creaking as it gave way, the door swung open to reveal a chiseled, dark-haired man, even bigger than Jacob, with a palpable aura of seriousness over his stoic features. He was surprisingly younger than I'd expected, reeking of volatile intensity. There was a wildness to him, one that stretched further than his dirty bare feet, tousled raven hair, and shirtless chest. Muscles seemed to ripple beneath every inch of caramel skin, concentrating exceptionally in his arms and abdomen. I let my eyes rake over his body in search of any abnormalities, or a dead giveaway to what sort of creature he could be, feeling all the more foolish the harder I looked. In spite of his hulking frame and super hearing, he looked.. human. I tore my eyes away, ashamed, as they strayed to the defined dips just inside of his hip bones, the smooth trails leading beneath a grubby pair of jean shorts, hacked off just below the knees.

But he kept his gaze trained to the floor, drawing near with a slick can of orange juice tucked under his chin, and a mountainous meal balanced across his palm. I watched his brows crunch together in concentration as he weaved through the haphazard maze of fallen books, ambling to the edge of the bed. The intense body heat I'd come to expect from the boys of La Push was no less shocking on him, entrancing me the moment he leaned over to rest a heaping plate of wild rice, chicken, and grilled vegetables on the stand. Porcelain clicked as it kissed the wood over the now empty spot, one that held had a stack of novels only moments earlier.

"Thanks," I murmured, pushing as much genuineness as I could into the short phrase. He nodded, holding out the cool can of fruit juice, and I plucked it from his scorching grasp. 

I caught his eye, warm cognac pools beaming down on mine, and something, everything, shifted. In an instant, he was on his knees before me, crashing down like the weight of the world had fell upon him. But the emotion that washed over his face wasn't agony or grief, he looked... Awestruck. As though he'd never seen something quite like what he was seeing now, and he couldn't get enough. He was distant, lost in his own world, yet entranced in the moment all the same.

"Hey, are you okay," I whispered, uncertainty creeping in on the edges of each syllable. His head shook the tiniest fraction of an inch, the movement so small I nearly missed it entirely. I chewed tediously at the inner walls of my cheek, tearing away an insignificant flap of flesh, and for the first time, I let myself wonder openly about whether Jacob might be on drugs. 

New friends, strange hints that bordered on paranoia, topped with the inexplicable heat, and drastic changes in both his appearance and demeanor. In a few short weeks he'd become a whole different kid, confused and hostile and cryptic. He trembled uncontrollably, his entire body vibrating as he struggled to bring up the stories of his tribe. At face value, all signs pointed straight to drugs. But then..

There was Embry.

He'd gone through all the physical changes Jake had, to the letter, yet his personality had remained entirely intact. If a drug were powerful enough to create Hulk-sized space heaters out of the young boys in La Push, surely it would be strong enough to alter Embry's state of mind. And surely someone would have looked into it by now. It all just wasn't adding up, not with any human explanation.

And certainly not with this well-meaning, half-naked stranger collapsed on my bedroom floor.

I quirked a brow, rubbing the sweat pooling in the palm of my hands on the duvet. I battered down my instincts, the voices chanting for me to console him, comfort him, the urge to reach out nearly uncontrollable. I nervously cleared my throat, catching his full attention, and his honeyed eyes bore down on me as though whatever I'd say next would be the most important sentence ever uttered.

"..What just happened?" I mumbled, carefully glancing anywhere but his eyes. Paul tousled his hair with trembling fingers, rising to his feet in the blink of an eye. For a moment he paced the room, forgetting that he didn't belong here as he struggled to clear his head. I could see the wheels turning, as though he'd been proposed a foreign question, and an answer was imminent, immediately required. "Paul," I whispered, a loaded unease clawing up the well of my throat, pooling there in a suffocating show of terror.

As his name tumbled from my lips a lopsided grin cracked over his teeth, an impeccable warmth soothing the rough edges of his frustration. I shot him a quizzical glance as I fiddled with my fingers, jumping straight out of my skin when he made a sudden beeline for the door.

"Bella," he muttered, rolling his tongue tenderly over the word. It sounded like a song as it chirped from his throat. "That wa- I just- was.. Look I -uh.. I gotta go."

"Yeah." I couldn't tear my eyes from his retreating form. As he crossed through the doorway, he whirled, thinking heavily before he spoke.

"I'm gonna come back," he insisted. "I'll explain it all later, the whole.. Jacob, Sam, us.. Me. All of it, okay?" Hope sparked deep in my gut, a wide grin slipping easily over my features, and I nodded before my brain could catch up. I'd all but invited the strangest visitor on the planet to come back as soon as he could; thinking things through had never been my strong suit.

As he dashed from the house, I felt the weight of losing Jacob, the pressure to unveil his life-changing secrets, slip off my back and crash to the floor. I couldn't begin to comprehend what in the hell had just taken place in my bedroom, but the knowledge that I would soon, left me walking on air. Definite answers were within reach, and wondering on the endless possibilities of what was to come completely wiped away the frustration I should have felt, as I realized each and every single one of my books was on the floor.


	8. At The Edge Of My Soul

_**PAUL LAHOTE** _

  
The little beat up truck roared to life beneath me, trembling fingers glued to the key in the ignition. Leaving Bella's house hit like a brick wall, knocking the wind forcefully from my chest, and each step away twisted my insides. Were I not already sitting down, the forceful impulse to stay by her side would have brought me right back to my knees. As I pulled blindly from the driveway, merging on vacant roads until my tires kissed the freeway, I smothered the powerful urge to phase. I drove without seeing for god knows how long, winding up empty, unfamiliar streets until I could gather my bearings. As though somebody had flicked a switch setting me on autopilot, I made a wide loop towards the reservation, solely focused on finding Sam. I wasn't sure what series of events needed to follow, or if there were some sort of standard protocol on super rare mythical soulmate connections. I was guessing not, but I knew I needed help. Fast, too; before I had to phase and it would be impossible to hide from the others. All I could think about was Bella; her voice, her perfect face, her fucking _scent_. I felt entirely new, as though I'd grown stronger, more confident, simply and completely better with each heartbeat since I'd laid my eyes on her. Everything was different, _I_ was different, and surely they'd all see it the moment I ran into them. Oh god.

Oh sweet mother of fuck, Jake was gonna kill me.

I could practically hear the spirits cackling, rolling around on the rug clenching their guts, as delighted tears streamed steadily from their hollow eyes. The second he knew, he'd probably come running to tear my throat out, and once I phased it was all out there for good. In wolf form, my own thoughts would betray me to my brothers. I could practically hear Sam's thunderous voice going on about how crucial it was we settle it quickly, no-nonsense, when I already knew it. Best to get on with it now, before fate forced us to hunt together. I didn't even want to think about the fatal repercussions if we got into a mess like that.

And while I understood there was only so long I could keep it from him, a selfish part of me wanted to savor this gift for myself just a little while longer.

"Of all the people in the goddamn world, it had to be Isabella fucking Swan," I whispered into the soggy air. "This is really fucked up." But my traitorous lips twitched with a smile as they murmured her name, again and again, testing the word like it'd just been invented. I mouthed it, noting the way my tongue licked at my teeth in the middle, and how the end sounded like a sigh of relief. As I cruised along the highway towards La Push, her name filled the cab of my truck, and all my worries melted away. She existed, and, for now, that was enough.

_'It was gonna be okay.'_

The soothing phrase tickled at the back of my mind, soaking through every bit of hostility I'd come to know so intimately. The wolf in me wondered what she needed from the bond, itching to be who she needed. It was Jacobs thoughts that came to me, his incessant mental film of Bella made up of memories that weren't mine to keep, but I cherished anyway. I saw each one differently than I ever had before, devouring them one by one with insatiable hunger. I craved more, longing to know who she was. 

It all seemed to come together;

Those bloodsucking Cullens had left her shattered to pieces without so much as a glance back. Their abominable existence was the reason I'd become this, why I had this life I'd never asked for. But how could I begrudge fate when it had led me straight to her? A rapid butterfly effect sprung in motion the moment she came to Forks; the Cullen's, Jacob, the accident. All of it brought us here. She had fought through unimaginable pain, and come out on the other side, where I hadn't realized I'd been waiting for her all along. After months of Jacob broadcasting her through the pack link, a feat I used to roll my eyes at, I finally saw her.

Clumsy, broken Bella; strong as a bull, and just as stubborn.

She needed someone to stand by her side, a protector. I nearly gagged up bile over the seat beside me as I realized I was one of the threats she'd face. Where I'd always been hot-headed with a nasty tendency to act on impulse, I now morphed into a gigantic dog at the slightest provocation. I'd seen this play out, having been around Emily. Christ, the damn incident replayed in Sam's head every single day, and still I hadn't listened. Not once did I try to reign in the volatile rage within me.

But I would fix all that. I could do it for her.

Hell, if there was a thing I wouldn't do to keep her safe, to see her happy. All I wanted was to see that smile again. The tiny, hidden grin when I promised to tell her everything, and soon, was the cutest fucking thing I'd ever seen in my life. She'd looked at me, beaming those sparkling walnut eyes my way, and she saw me as an ally. She hadn't turned me away, all but inviting me to come back so long as I came with the truth. I vowed her my honesty over the steering wheel, the silent promise settling deep within my gut. Whatever she needed, I'd be it. A friend, a lover, a light in the dark.. 

A little brown cottage poked suddenly into view as I turned up Emily's driveway. Inviting traces of cooked meat and baked bread wafted deliriously over the yard, teasing my nostrils. As a low growl erupted from my hollow stomach, I could just barely make out a rowdy swarm of laughter roaring over the fire crackling in the wood stove. Smoke drifted up the chimney and disappeared over the trees, and I winced inwardly at my stupidity. Of course the entire pack would be there; It was supper time, and there's no better place for a wolf than at Emily's generous table. Wondering if they'd heard me over their own ruckus, I briefly debated throwing the truck in reverse and heading home. I could wait out the few hours until I knew Sam would be free for a one-on-one. My hand froze halfway to the key, dropping dejectedly to my lap as the front door swung open. One by one the pack rushed onto the porch, releasing a synchronized yip while stumbling clumsily over each other's heels. Okay, of course they'd heard me, I have the second loudest old truck in the fucking world, and they have superhuman ears. 

Whatever, I could do this. I just had to deflect all attention to the subject until I could get Sam alone, I reasoned. 

_'Sounds easy enough_.'

As I swung my body from the confines of my truck, an excited chorus of whoops and hollers filled the evening sky. Wide copper hands frantically waved me over, and I did my best to avoid Jacob's gaze.

"For someone who made such a big fuss about going, you sure took your damn time," he goaded, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"I was just giving you some time to go fuck yourself," I shot back.

"Emily said we couldn't eat until you're late ass got back," Jared pouted. "What took you so long, man?"

A heated blush crept over every inch of skin, and if my face held any traces of the guilt I felt, they didn't notice.

"Maybe he stayed to watch the game too," Jacob teased, punching lightly at Embry's shoulder.

"Ha-ha, very funny. You're just jealous Charlie likes me best." Embry swooped to the side at the last second, barely avoiding the hit and sneaking in one of his own. The laughter died down, and all eyes turned expectantly on me. Well shit.

"Charlie wasn't home," I offered with what I hoped was a nonchalant shrug. This piqued Jared's interest, and he wiggled his brows suggestively, leaning forwards as though he were about to share top-secret information.

"Just you and Bella, huh" he whispered loudly, his tone dripping with mock conviction. "So how far'd ya get?" 

Embry walloped him in the gut at the exact moment he winked, warping his features comically as he hunched over. Jake seized the opportunity, swinging his leg wide in a roundhouse kick, his foot connecting on Jared's ass with just enough force to launch him face first off the porch and into the grass. Emily's sweet voice chimed from the open doorway, casting admonishing glances towards both Embry and Jacob.

"Get it while it's hot, guys! Not that you'd mind either way," she added low in her throat, waving us inside.

Dinner ran smoothly, cheeks too stuffed with chicken drumsticks to ask anything more about Bella. Playful banter floated carelessly about the room, even Emily chiming in with her own bouts of sass. Sam's face beamed with pride at each joke she let free, and the warmth between their loving glances made my heart stutter half a beat. It was something I'd never paid much attention to before, and I truly did my best to ignore it. Nobody seemed to notice that I was failing miserably. As I scarfed down the last of the meal before me, relief rumbled through tense muscles. We cleared our plates, piled high with bones picked clean, scraping them politely into the compost bin out back as Emily busied herself with the cleanup. Jared lay belly up on the little old sofa, poking at it with lazy satisfaction, while Jacob hung about the kitchen table. Embry stood propped by the sink, absent-mindedly sipping at a glass of water as my eyes searched for Sam. When they failed to locate him, I let my ears search, placing him somewhere out back, probably starting up a bonfire. I slipped quietly towards the door, hoping to sneak out without drawing too much attentio-

"Paul, honey," Emily called out, earning a wince. So fucking close. "Did you get the dish from Bella's? I didn't see you bring it in.."

Dammit. I gawked at her for a moment too long, and all eyes floated to me. I cleared my throat, shaking it off.

Sorry, I was too busy imprinting on her to ask about bakeware. "I forgot."

"You _forgot_?" She wailed, incredulously. "I reminded you every five minutes before you left that you were to bring the dish back." Her voice climbed several octaves as she went on, her hands thrown up in disbelief. Her eyes darted from me to Embry, who had stayed at their house for hours watching sports with Charlie, and therefore forgotten to bring the dish home first. At this point, I couldn't tell if it made it better or worse that he had a legitimate story. "What's gotten into you boys?"

"Charlie wasn't home," I mumbled defensively. "I had to bring food to Bella's room, and then I-" I cut myself off sharply before I shared much more than I was willing to. 

"You did what?" Jacob's suspicious glare didn't go unmissed, but I'd be damned before I acknowledged it. 

"Then I forgot."

Emily softened slightly, as she did against any good deed. "Well I need it to send something in tomorrow, so one of you go and get it."

_**"I'll do it!"** _

Bewildered looks were cast around the room as everyone - with the exception of Jared - simultaneously offered to run the errand. Emily shook her head at three eager faces, unsure of what to make of it all, deciding on a dismissive flick of her tiny hand.

"Take it up with Sam," she warned. "And so help me, if one of you doesn't return with that dish I'm not cooking for a week!"

  
..............

  
_** JACOB BLACK ** _

  
Sam was either finally cutting me some slack, or just as perturbed by Paul's frantic offer to run Emily's errands. It had thrown me for a loop, at least, given that I'd never seen Paul willingly offer to help out. Sure, he'd be there in a flash of you asked him, but he wasn't usually jumping the gun to get a head start or nothing. Least of all when it came to Bella Swan. Her name dripped from his tongue with deeply rooted disgust, and he'd never gotten past his anger towards her for associating with the Edward. Paul was so stubborn, he probably never would. So when he pushed Sam to let him run off the her home for the second time in one day, it was a little fishy. Whatever he was up to, I didn't like it.

I knew the way to her house like the back of my hand. Good thing too, because I barely had enough sense to mind the road. Excitement boiled low in my gut, inching higher and higher until it bubbled over, spilling out into the car in the form of a carefree laugh. It has been only a few days, but it felt like ages had passed since I'd seen her. I'd pleaded with her to remember the stories she'd coaxed out of me, way back when on the black sands of the La Push beach, unknowingly handing her a double-sided key. Where one unlocked my own secrets, ones I hadn't even known were mine to bare, the other revealed what the Cullen's really were; it was clear which of the two she'd chosen.

But whether she knew what I was or not, she was still my best friend, and I had been chomping at the bit to see her. A quarter of an hour dashed by in seconds, and I had the Rabbit tucked neatly beside Charlie's police cruiser in no time. I all but pranced up the steps to ring the bell, the rounded pad of my thumb sinking into the tiny silver button.

"Come in!" A familiar voice shouted, closer than I'd expect and nearly knocking me off my feet. I twisted the knob, pushing the door in and letting it click shut behind me. There she was, just sitting on the couch like she'd been waiting for me. She had her hair piled up high in a big messy bun, steam rolling off her raw, flushed skin, having barely come from the shower. A hint of peony danced about the room from her favorite shampoo.

_God she was beautiful_.

"Bella," I murmured fondly, kicking my grimy sneakers off in the general direction of the shoe rack. Her smile faltered, if only for a second, before she slipped on an easy grin.

"Oh. Hey Jake." She only sounded a little disappointed.

"Were you expecting someone else?"

She blinked back, carefully calculating some equation in her mind's eye, before slowly shaking her head. The cluster of hairs on the top of her head bobbed with motion, a few loose strands falling to her face.

"No," she murmured, swiping them behind her ear. "Just surprised to see you is all. What's up?"

"Paul forgot to bring that pan thing back," I replied. I let myself sink carefully into the couch, nestling into the end beside her carefully propped up feet. 

"What's the deal with that guy anyway," she queried. A tiny hint of crimson splashed beneath the skin of her cheeks.

"Why, did he do something?" I couldn't fight down the animalistic need to protect her, the Wolf growling low in my gut. Her eyes widened in bewilderment as she earnestly shook her head.

"No, no, not at all!" She cried. "Well I mean, he did sorta break in, but he was .. weirdly sweet about it I guess?"

"Sweet? Now that's a new one, are you sure we're talking about the same Paul?" I laughed, and my bemusement had her blush reaching further down her neck. I dropped my gaze, shaking the ridiculous notion from my head; Soft Paul, the big old sweetheart. Yeah, he'd hear about that first chance I got. My eyes wandered, catching a glimpse of a wide sheet of mismatched, puckered flesh wrapped around her calf. It was a mark I'd never noticed before. I felt my brows pool, realization dawning; burn marks, from the accident. And even though there was nothing I could have done, guilt settled heavy over my heart. She'd been coming to see **me** , because I had to cut her off. I'd found some way to weasel through her shattered walls only to abandon her, just like.. him. Not only had I broken her newfound spirits, I'd also caused unbearable physical pain from which she'd never stop feeling the aftereffects.

"Nevermind.. anyway, I'm not sure where Billy keep the dishes at your house, but here, it's probably in the kitchen." I tore my gaze away to find a smug smirk slanted across her lips, and, for a moment, everything else wiped away. It was just me and her, like it always was. Like it had been, I corrected myself. I hesitated, and her grin faltered a little. "What?"

"I also wanted to check on you," I began, studying her carefully to gauge her reactions.

"I'm fine Jake."

"Come on Bells, talk to me," I pleaded at her defensive tone. "This whole thing can't be easy on you. I know things are different, but you can still tell me anything."

"Like you tell me everything?" She scowled over the sudden hostility dripping from her lips. I reeled back like she'd slapped me in the face.

"Bella.. I know that I.. haven't been around much, but I would be. If I could." I felt like I was grasping at straws, and each time my hands came up empty. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah Jake, I know." she sighed, eyes meeting everything but my own. "You keep saying it. Does Sam even know you're here?"

"Of course he does," I frowned, puzzled. A bitter grin slipped over her face, twisted and cruel and devoid of all humor. She nodded once, her jaw gaped crookedly as she tongued one of her molars.

"Right, of course." 

"Oh don't blame Sam," I spat. Fire boiled beneath my flesh as a single quiver ripped up my spine. "If it weren't for those filthy bloodsuckers you love so much, none of this would have happened."

A gasp flew wildly from her lips and I immediately regretted my words. For once, I wished the dumb Alfa Order would have kept my mouth shut, stopped me before I could poke at Bella's sore spots. Tears sprung to her wounded brown eyes, and she turned away, letting a lot, uncomfortable silence stretch over the room. A whirlpool of electricity cackled in the space between us, broken by the sound of Charlie trudging down the stairs. 

"Hi Chief," I murmured politely, the words dry in my throat.

"Hey kid, how ya been," Charlie beamed, glancing between Bella's somber expression and my own. "Sorry.. Were yo- yenno what? Forget I asked." He cleared his throat, anxiously checking the clock on the wall. Right; game day. "You need anythin' before I go Bells?" 

"I've got my cell here, I can call you if I need you. I'm good Dad, go. Have fun at Billy's."

He stalked towards the door, casting a meaningful look at Bella. She rolled her eyes, but it seemed to satisfy whatever he was trying to get across. He slipped a jacket over his flannel button up before turning back to face me.

"You stickin' around?" I nodded, and he hardly supressed a cheeky grin. He had no way to notice Bella's pulse begin to race. "Okay.. Good." With a tense nod he stepped into the night, mumbling a hurried goodbye. Charlie had never been one to hover, least of all in a room soaked to the bones with thick tension. He chuckled at nothing in particular as he tucked himself into his car, and I could hear the smug grin from a mile away. As the whirring of his vehicle sped out of earshot, silence dawned once more.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered, as though the interruption hadn't happened. An unceremoniously snort leaked from my flaring nostrils as she tried to defend them. I knew what they were, even if she'd done everything in her capacity to hide it from everyone; to keep the secrets that weren't hers to share.

"Like hell you don't," I grumbled, and she fixed her glare on me, fury swimming behind chocolate irises. 

"It has nothing to do with you."

I barked out a viscous laugh; a toxic, wicked beast that pounced sharply from my throat. The Wolf nearly snarled in her face, pacing just beneath the surface, egging me on, begging to be let loose.

"God, Bella, how are you that naïve?" She flinched at my words, or maybe because I was yelling, but I didn't back down. "If it weren't for them, I'd still be me. You'd still be you." I sprung from the seat, seeing red, darting back and forth in an effort to not punch something. "How can you not see how bad they were for you? He tore you apart and you're still holding on to a ghost, Bella. He's gone. He's never coming back. But I've been here. I picked up all the pieces but you don't even see me." My fingers dug into the palm of my hand, drawing blood from a cut that healed instantly, as tremors ripped violently through every inch of my body.

"I didn't realize you thought I was so pathetic," she spat. "Jesus, Jake, why did you even stick around, huh?" Her voice trembled slightly over the words, the tears she'd been holding back spilling freely down her face. "I didn't ask to be your charity case! Clearly I've handled everything just fine without you."

" _Handled_ it? It's been months, and you're still hung up on that.. that _fucking leech_." I drew closer to her, vibrating with barely contained rage. She focused purposefully on her lap as she clutched her gut, the oh-so-familiar picture of her shrivelling away before my eyes, hardly holding herself together. I turned my back, glaring into my eyelids, forcing the wolf down with everything I had. Her tiny voice withered to nothing, and she spoke so softly even I almost missed it.

"Don't.. don't call him that."

I whirled on her suddenly, finding a girl withered to nothing. She was no more than a small, vulnerable heap of all the raw pain I'd been coaxing out of her for months. I reached out blindly, grasping for anything to hold me to the earth, to keep me from phasing right there in her living room. Shaking fingers connected with the banister of the staircase, and it shattered beneath my grip. A thousand splinters erupted over the hardwood, and I could feel the shift only seconds away.

I needed to get outside, _fast_. 

There was a loud crack as the Wolf clawed fiercely at my ribs, pushing forwards with a mighty roar. _Please. Not here_ , I pleaded, but the Wolf wasn't listening. He remained steadily fixated on his feral instincts as he contorted my limbs, wrenching my body into something more familiar to himself, a shape he was free to roam in. He ignored Bella's fearful shrieks, and the strong hands wrapping around his shoulders. He couldn't make sense of the gruff words they screamed to him as he was dragged from the house.

All he knew was the moon, and the hunt, and the rage.


	9. The Spirits Are Laughing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little recap of the previous chapter, but from a paired perspective of Bella/Paul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! It's a longer one at least, to make up for being such a slowpoke.

_**PAUL LAHOTE** _

  
The sharp clanging of dishes knocking against the kitchen sink reached the backyard, where four hulking forms gathered shoulder to shoulder. Emily hummed cheerfully over the steaming, sudsy water, while Jared snored louder than a pig in the sun from his nest on the couch. Couldn't say I blamed him; The poor sod had been running on empty for weeks now, even worse than the rest of us. Between patrols, the final stretch of his senior year, and helping around his father's carpentry shop, he was frantically soaking up whatever time with his imprint he'd been afforded. Since their eyes had met dreamily over a fallen pencil, one Kim reluctantly admitted to dropping on purpose in hopes that he'd finally notice her, she'd been all he could think of. Even his childhood memories of her, long before he phased, had warped slightly. It was as though the imprint began tugging out ancient, irrelevant details he hadn't bothered to notice then, but were somehow stored carefully within the endless folds of his mind.

Suddenly he could recall the way her hair flowed down the back of her modest, prepubescent bathing suit at the beach the summer he'd finally learned to swim. By now, we were all firmly acquainted with her coy brown eyes when they'd glistened at the theatre, craning her neck to glance three rows down to Jared and his own group of friends, sometime before his fifteenth birthday. She'd been drawn to him even then, his memories flooded with countless flashes of her rosy cheeks and stolen glimpses. But he was only seeing her now, and he sometimes hated himself for it. She often comforted him by reminding him of how he hadn't wasted a second before spilling the secret, and re-creating the night he'd imprinted. He and his wolf had thoroughly claiming her for themselves, time after time in a blissful tangling of slick skin on sweat-soaked sheets.

The backlash of invasive imagery dashed through my mind, only Kim was Bella, and I'd become Jared. The slack beast between my legs threatened to rise to the call of duty in response, eager to please the only one who would ever make him stir again. In a valiant effort, I wrestled the pictures away, banishing them to darkened corners until a lonely night, and began a backward mental recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance. The faint pull of the conversation had my head snapping up to meet Sam's stern expression.

"Charlie won't even be there,” Jacob teased, earning a defensive pout from the lanky boy at his side.

“Hey,” Embry's soft voice chirped, “I like Bella too!” With a mountain of wood crackling wickedly in the fire pit beside us, we rolled our eyes in unison before dismissing him entirely. Though he still wasn't sure why, an underlying tension hung between Jacob and myself, unspoken and palpable in the electric open air.

“Jacob will go,” Sam decided, casting a weighted glance my way. He may as well have tacked ' _that's final_ ' at the end, and I glowered as the bond tugged nervously in my chest.

**'You should have fought harder,'** it chided. ' **You should go to her anyway**.'

The tiny sliver of humanity that still belonged to me — the shred that had yet to be tainted by the spirits, and wasn't irrevocably bound to a girl I'd just met — knew I needed to be here. It would be infinitely better to just rip the bandage off all at once, allowing whatever lay beneath it due time to breathe. The thought of speaking the words out loud grew increasingly inviting, and a river of peculiar sorts circulated behind my skull. One that flowed full to the brim with secrets as it rushed through my veins with crushing force, and it met rather abruptly with a sturdy barrier as it reached my lips. I held it back with all that I had, and only by a slim thread; While I wasn't naive enough to believe I didn't need Sam's guidance, nor stubborn enough to try to handle things on my own, I didn't need the full audience. Least of all, the pup.

Yet, as Jacob beamed that smug little shit-grin, effectively pissing over his victory, he unwittingly mocked and goaded my wolf.

**'Tell him now! He shouldn't be near her, she's yours** ,' cried the animal.

I battered it down and suppressed the urge to square my shoulders as nature told me to fight him for what he didn't even know was mine. I had complete faith I'd win that fight, even with Jacobs instinctual prowess as rightful leader. My own brute strength coupled with the forces of destiny at my back made me a nearly unmatched opponent. But my heart was beating surely for Bella, and it whispered back the promises I'd sworn to keep only hours before.

_Do better. Do it for her_.

And, for once, I let the voices of reason be the ones I chose to follow. With the warm glow of firelight framing the stony features of my alpha's face, I let my eyes glide shut and the world slip through my fingertips. Each breath worked towards calming the carnal blood lust I craved, until the Wolf purred in satisfaction. Anger, a dear old friend who had grown accustomed to come knocking whenever he wanted, was left out on the porch, until finally he gave up. Turning on his heels, he crawled back to whatever hole he'd come from. With the misplaced rage out of the way, I was left daydreaming about Bella, only to be unforgivably interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

"You doing yoga?" Embry dared, flashing a cheeky grin at the cheap shot. Normally the kid was one of my favorites, and sharing a mind with him wasn't even all that bad, but I could have punched him right then and there. So much for calm. The stress of the day -had it really only been one day?- was getting to me, and the prospect of more events to come was draining.

“Whatever,” I growled. The waters within swelled frantically, clawing at the carefully crafted dam in hopes of breaking through. They threatened to spill over as the secret became too much, and I ached to howl it from the rooftops.

“Sam, we need to talk,” I gritted through clenched teeth. If the words surprised him, his stoic features gave nothing away, and my gaze raked over the watchful glares of unwelcome eyes. “Alone."

“Let's go for a run,” he offered, concern pooled beneath his intense brows. My head bobbed once as I was already stepping away impatiently, but he hesitated. “Tell Emily we'll be back soon. Help her clean up before you go," Sam murmured to my brother, who nodded.

Jacob all but tittered with excitement as he took off into the house, leaving Embry standing contentedly to his own devices. The boy always seemed to cherish the small moments of silence beneath the moon, his features wiped clean of worry and his eyes wistful. Memories he guarded with his life from the pack mind danced freely during seconds such as these. He pulled a thick round of wood towards the fire as a makeshift chair, and, once he had it standings upright, perched atop the log. As we silently trotted off into the woods, he sat alone, staring intensely into the heated passion of the dancing flames.

  
............

  
_**BELLA SWAN** _

  
Since the strange encounter with Paul in my bedroom, my mind had devoted itself elsewhere, picking apart the haphazard map of facts and suspicions. While I knew most of the sacred legends of the ancient Quileute tribe, chunks were missing. I'd been so caught up in the mystery of the Cold ones, I hadn't paid much attention. I remembered that the... Cullens, had made peace with Jacob's ancestors in a treaty that still remained chaste up to this day, a treaty I knew now to be real. But regardless of how many times I relived that day on the beach, it wasn't all there, and something just wouldn't quit click without all the information.

But the strange bringer of information was on his way, sometime between now and.. Whenever. Frustration struck through me like the kiss of a branding iron as I realized that I had no clue when he'd be coming back. Aside from an odd gut feeling, I couldn't even be sure he was coming back. Still, I tried like hell to keep busy as I waited, even managing a quick shower. It hardly even registered as the floral soap stung at the raw scabs over my skin, but the scalding water did little to still the avalanche of thoughts rushing down over me. Afterwards, I sat combing my hair far longer than necessary, lost to the world. Before I realized the damage I'd done, it became a frizzy, mangled mess of dry static, leaving me looking only half as crazy as I felt. With a sigh, I took my time tossing it into a sloppy bun. It was a rarely used skill that had been forcefully drilled into me by a pale, pushy pixie of a thing. I admired the uncharacteristic updo, daring to dream that even though I was nothing to her now, she'd still have been proud with my handiwork.

Stinging memories from ages ago pushed at my barriers, trying to seep to the foreground, but I fought them back. Time had proven that I couldn't bear to remember without the carefully concealed cracks slipping out of place. I waited for the ache, but it never came. Clearly I had delved way past crazy, and now perhaps I'd already been shattered so completely there was nothing left to hurt.

I dragged my curiosity back to Paul, and the way he'd crumbled before me. The awestruck wonder behind his caramel eyes as he drank in my face like the last cup of water on earth. I shivered despite myself, remembering the indescribable pull I'd felt to him. That I still felt. Like magnets, I'd been aware of his every step further from my bedroom, immediately longing for his return. I had brushed it off as excitement for the revelations he swore to me, but it somehow felt deeper than that. There was an inexplicable trust, and it shook me to my core. I'd purposefully left his promise to return out of supper conversation, knowing Charlie would never approve of leaving me alone in the house with a man. Besides, my dad desperately needed the guys night.

Charlie cleared his throat, shifting his feet nervously on the welcome mat. I whipped my gaze to the doorway in which he stood, a light coating of cool mist coating his hair from the small trip to his car. I noted the fresh rack of beer he'd been clutching was nowhere to be seen. I realized much too late that he had been talking, and was waiting impatiently for an answer.

"What?" I blurted, his withering gaze boring into my soul. As a police chief, it was sort of his job to intimidate the truth out of people, and tension clung to my muscles. I couldn't lie to save my life, and if he got suspicious, I'd be done for.

"Where's your head at, Bells," he snorted in disbelief. Shaking his head, he tried again. "I was asking if you're sure you wanna hang out down here. Might be back late..."

"It's fine Dad," I murmured, forcing nonchalance. "I'll probably just watch a movie or something."

His calculating stare pierced through mine between the narrow slits of his eyelids. Whatever he had searched for, he must have found, because he nodded once and slipped up the stairs to change out of his uniform. As the door to his bedroom clicked shut, a knock sounded on the door.

' _He's here?!_ '

My heart stopped cold, anticipation welling in my throat, as I called out from the couch.

"Come in!"

.................

  
**_PAUL LAHOTE_ **

  
Sam evenly matched my furious pace as I took off in a sprint, as though I could escape the uneasy feeling in my gut just by running. A heaviness settled over my thoughts, so thick and dry I was sure he'd be able to sense it too, but he didnt falter. The pounding of his footprints on the ground was sure and rhythmic, yet I stumbled almost blindly through the intricate woodland maze. Sam followed me wordlessly through the trees, keeping a respectfully wide distance, almost as though he had foreseen that I would be in desperate need of some time to gather my thoughts. Everything had come crashing around me with a single glance, and I grasped for the words in dire need of freeing. We ran past First Beach, further than necessary and well past earshot of curious listeners, finally stopping at the edge of a series of cliffs. As I glared out over the calm waters, shoulders heaving with the sudden swell of nerves, Sam waited. Anticipation bubbled in my throat, the words hanging on the tip of my tongue begging to let loose; to be spoken, to be made real.

"I imprinted." It was pure adrenaline on my lips, dipped in honey and savored till the last syllable. It was out there, these feelings existed, but it wasn't enough. "And I have questions." Still he said nothing, the silence irking nerves that had already been worn thin.

"Who," he bellowed after more than a few breathless ages. His tone filled the rocky landscape, so commanding and studious it set my pulse on fire. This was the part I'd been dreading.

".. Bella," I winced, despite the giddy tug on the bond. For just a moment, he let his guard down, faltering with a sharp intake of breath. Volatile Paul, the man forever tethered to the leech girl. I felt his heat draw near, cautious as he pattered over the dirt.

"Well this is.." Sam's voice trailed off uncertainly as he searched for the right words.

"Fucked up," I finished darkly. I turned to meet his weary gaze, shocked by the softness etched over his strong features.

"I was going to say 'unexpected.'" He clasped a hand firmly on my shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. A look of pity danced behind his eyes, fleeting and tender, before the careful mask slipped on once more. "I'm happy for you."

"Yeah, and I can imagine Jake's gonna be just thrilled," I grumbled under my breath. Sam withdrew his arms and folded them across his exposed chest, heaving a grand sigh under the moonlight canopy of trees and mossy rock.

"He'll manage, he has to. We all will manage. You did not decide this, and he has no right to punish you for it." The seriousness of his voice sent a chill up my spine.

He began to recite the history of the tribe, adding details I'd never heard before. The story of the first imprint fell between Taha Aki's second son and the daughter of the shaman. It was written that he'd known her since babyhood; together they'd played and served among the village for years. The time the boy's fever set in, and he first phased, the secrets of the pack were known to all, and they were honored as the humble protectors of Quileute lives. He ran to her, eager to share the news of his newfound abilities. The moment the new warrior laid eyes on the girl, one with whom he'd shared his whole life, he was brought to his knees. An instant, unbreakable bond secured him to the earth, and it changed and grew as they did. They shared intense feelings and emotions, much in the way of the pack mind. When she hurt, he writhed with her. When he was away, she felt the ache in his limbs. The bond was sacred, and clear to any and all who witnessed it, and such the law was set that no harm shall ever come to the imprint; she was one with the pack, and they welcomed her wholly, unconditionally. Their love was as passionate and unfaltering as the sun itself, and the spirits of the Wolf and of the man and their mate were in perfect harmony. Their children became fine warriors as well, and when the shaman's daughter was finally laid to rest, as was the second son.

The racing rhythm of my frantic heartbeat began to slow as I let his words wash over me. I clung hungrily to each one as they poured steadily from his mouth. Moonlight ghosted over copper skin, and I realized I'd been hunched forwards under his spell, and I straightened my spine. I was left in awe; These stories were sacred, I could feel it deep within my being, and saved only for those lucky enough to be blessed by the imprint. Jared, Sam, and myself, along with Kim, Emily, and soon enough, Bella. What was thought to be the rarest of traits had now become a majority in the Pack, leaving only Embry and Jacob without mates.

"I wa- I need to tell her. Tonight" What was meant to be a plea for permission came out firm, more like a gruff command. The Wolf flinched back on his haunches. He released a loud chorus of mewls as he awaited the worst, expecting Sam to deny him the thing he so craved. But, to our genuine surprise, he nodded dutifully.

"Should I go with you?" I pondered the notion, picturing the hostility she directed towards him in Jacob's memories. With a shake of my head I dismissed the offer, my eyes dipping down to grubby sneakers as they toed nervously into the mud.

"Maybe Emily?" Who better to set the leech girl at ease than the pack mother?

Before he could reply, a sharp twinge struck across my lungs, radiating through my muscles and into my heart.

Something wasn't right. Everything was very wrong.

A cold sweat broke over my skin, panic overcoming my senses as my ribs contracted under an invisible weight. These weren't my emotions, and I instinctively knew who they belonged to. I clutched my temples and cried out her name as I fell to my knees. Sam appeared at my side, searching deep into my tortured face. A silent plea hung between us, and immediately he was dragging me to my feet.

"It's.." teeth clamped over my tongue to stifle the pain.

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair and pushing my body with his towards his home. "You'll feel most of what she feels, even more when you're near. The first few days will be the worst."

Furiously, I shook my head. It was more than that. If I was only feeling the residue of the storm within her, I couldn't imagine what she..

"I gotta... I need to get there Sam," I managed between burning gasps, nearly collapsing to the forest floor. My eyes widened in horror as I remembered..

"Jake."

We spoke in unison, as he reached the same horrifying conclusion I had. Sam flung himself out of reach a fraction of a second before skin erupted and silver paws touched the earth. In the blink of an eye he was stark naked, tossing his shorts into my jaws as I hurtled though the trees.

  
.............

  
_**BELLA SWAN** _

  
"Oh," I murmured, immediately regretting the dissatisfied tone. I plastered the smile back on my face as best I could, hoping against hope he didn't notice it had fallen. "Hey Jake."

"Were you expecting someone else?"

The suspicious glint in his eye tugged at my chest, pulling on the same unfamiliar bond I'd felt as Paul had left.

**'Don't tell him.'**

The bitter snarl ripped through me, a phantom so unlike the one I'd been chasing. It wasn't.. _him_ , but it was shockingly similar. Great, I really had lost my marbles.

"No," I lied, shaking my head and wondering what other voices would take up root in my haunted mind. "Just surprised to see you is all. What's up?"

He eyed me cautiously as he circled the sofa, sneaking into the too-small space between my elevated toes and the armrest.

"Paul forgot to bring that pan thing back," he sighed. He casually ignored my flinch at the name, but the tightening of his lips let me know he saw it.

"What's the deal with that guy anyway?" Heat threaded under my marred skin, and I prayed he wouldn't take it the wrong way. I knew how Jake felt about me, and hurting him was the last thing I wanted to do.

A low growl thundered in his chest, sounding one half animal and the other half Jacob. So very much like Ed- .. Nevermind.

"Why, did he do something?" The implications of his words struck like a slap to the face, causing me to jerk back with wide eyes. How dare he think so little of Paul? At least he was honest!

"No! No, not at all." I thought back almost fondly on the encounter, slightly amused at the whole thing. "Well, I mean.. he did sort of break in. But he was.. weirdly sweet about it I guess."

The crimson flush wiped further down my throat, probably reaching to my toes by the time Jacob barked out a disbelieving laugh.

"Sweet," he scoffed. "Now that's a new one. You sure we're talking about the same Paul?"

Apparently not. It was clear the new voice had been on to something with its warning, and I knew my best friend wouldn't approve of the visitor I was expecting. As much as I'd craved more time with Jake, I had to get him to leave, and I remembered the reason he'd come. In a desperate attempt to push him out the door as gently as possible, I fumbled for humor.

"Nevermind.. anyway, I'm not sure where Billy keeps the dishes at your house, but here, it's probably in the kitchen."

For just a second, the wide grin that split over his face was the old Jacob. My Jacob. But all too soon, it slipped, and faded away entirely. The weight of the world crashed down around us, and I knew what was coming. I'd seen that look before, the shifty-eyed pity that ate up my insides the moment I entered a room. It had become as much a part of me as the hole in my chest, and, until now, I hadn't had any sense to care. But seeing it on the boyish face I loved so dearly, so inadequately, was something I'd, until now, avoided entirely.

"What?" I sighed the words, resigning myself to his inevitable departure from my life.

"I also wanted to check on you," he cooed, as though I were a small child. As though he were just like everyone else.

"I'm fine, Jake." I wasn't. I hadn't been. I never would be again.

"Come on Bells, talk to me. This whole thing can't be easy on you." He begged, a desperation creeping into the syllables. "I know things are different, but you can still tell me anything."

I should have taken comfort in the words, let them soothe the ache even a little. But I didn't; how could I? He'd been hiding something from me, a secret that had altered his personality, his very character, and drastically morphed his life into something so unrecognizable that even his best friend seemed like the enemy. He had spent weeks not letting me in on a damn thing, but still pleading for that and then some from me. I snapped, and the resolved flight in my hollow bones turned to dead weight, sprouting fire and fury with fists bared, ready and looking for a fight. The words on my tongue burned all the way up my throat, but I spat it over him anyway.

"Like you tell me everything?"

"Bella.. I know that I.. haven't been around much, but I would be." The grimace he bore had the rage ebbing slightly. I knew I wasn't being fair, but part of me, the part of me that had been hurting for months on end, didn't care. "If I could," he added bitterly. "You know that, right?"

Yeah Jake, I know. You keep saying it." I breathed a weary sigh. But I couldn't meet his eye, because I knew the Jacob I loved would be behind solemn eyes I hardly recognized anymore, and it hurt too much. A thought tugged itself from the tightness in my chest, ripping about the room with a whirlwind of accusation.

"Does Sam even know you're here?" What I didn't ask, was whether he'd been inclined to sneak out to see me again, or did he need to ask for permission like a good little puppy. I couldn't fathom which was worse, and hatred burned brightly for the La Push thug who'd once dragged me from the woods.

"Of course he does," Jacob replied. My face contorted into an ugly smile, but I was far from amused. He couldn't even make his own decisions. That, I decided, was worse.

"Right," I sneered. "Of course."

"Oh don't blame Sam." The sudden hostility in his voice had my eyes whipping up to meet his. A disgusted tremble snaked through him, and his lips curled out to bare his teeth. "If it weren't for those filthy bloodsuckers you love so much, none of this would have happened."

And just like that, all my fight withered to nothing as the hole gaped wide and cut me in two. Ice slashed through my veins and froze me in place. Deaf ears only vaguely registering the heavy sound of Charlie pounding down the stairs. A distant hum of exchanged pleasantries passed over the room, my father choosing to ignore the tension in the room. He muttered my way, and I mindlessly assured him I'd be fine, that he should take off. The words poured from my mouth with a comforting facade, and he cast a meaningful look I knew well. One reminding me of my manners, and I pretended to comply. We'd rampaged hastily past welcome hospitality, hitting the edge of no return. But I nodded anyway, and he grunted his approval on his way out the door.

Oh god. He knew. He knew everything. But.. how? The tribe legends had always been just that to him. Words from the past, his words, rung clearly through my head.

_'It's really just like an old scary story.'_

But it was more than that, and he knew. Hell, all his new friends probably knew it too. It was a secret I'd bet my own life on, my whole future, and he'd thrown it back in my face. He sat before me and demonized my reason for existing, blamed.. _Him_ for whatever it was he couldn't bring himself to tell me about.

"I don't know what you're talking about." It was hardly a whisper, my voice so tiny I was sure he wouldn't hear, but he snarled in response.

"Like Hell you don't."

"It has nothing to do with you," I bit out. The rage grew inside me, hotter than before.

The distorted laugh cutting over his tongue sent a chill up my spine, and he practically vibrated with frustration. I knew there was no way out of this one but through, but the jagged edges of a Jacob I'd never known had laid dormant beneath the surface, and it threatened to tear me to shreds before I could come out the other side.

  
.............

  
_**PAUL LAHOTE** _

  
I barreled past Emily's cottage, catching Embry's confused gaze as he scrambled to his feet. Without pausing to question it, he was shifting, his snout at my flank as he matched my furious pace. Jared phased halfway off the porch with a curse on his lips, and the second half of the word rung through to our thoughts.

They picked through the swift current of my jumbled brain, gathering enough to piece together the secret I'd kept through dinner. Confusion warped around the intensity of the hunt, and Jared faltered slightly as he realized our goal.

_'What the hell, man, we're hunting.. Jacob?'_

_'Thought it was a leech.'_

_'Dude, you imprinted?'_

_'On BELLA?'_

_'Now that's a plot twist if I ever heard one.'_

_'He wouldn't hurt her, Paul.'_

_'Yeah, Jake's a puppy for the girl.'_

_'Jesus, he's gonna kill you when he finds out.'_

_'Five bucks says Paul kicks his sorry ass no problem.'_

_'Oh you're so on, Jake's a natural!'_

  
I forced their thoughts from my head, following the bond, picking through each emotion she unknowingly projected; a mixture of dull physical discomfort, and fresh emotional pain. There was anger somewhere, residual and chaotic and familiar. But mostly there was an overwhelming fear.

_'I need to move faster, dammit!'_

  
_.................._

  
_**BELLA SWAN** _

  
"God, Bella, how are you that naïve?" He'd never yelled at me before, and I flinched involuntarily. If he noticed, it did nothing to deter him.

"If it weren't for them," he roared, "I'd still be me. _You'd_ still be you." He shot up from the couch to pace the room, and the shifting of the cushions sent a shockwave through my broken hip. I hissed at the pain, but it was the only reminder that I was still alive. That this wasn't another nightmare.

"How can you not see how bad they were for you? He tore you apart and you're still holding on to a ghost, Bella." His eyes blazed like wildfire, tearing down everything in its chaotic path as he shivered violently from head to toe.

"He's gone. He's never coming back. But I've been here. I picked up all the pieces but you don't even see me."

"I didn't realize you thought I was so pathetic," I glowered. "Jesus, Jake, why did you even stick around, huh?"  
 **-Because you begged him to.** -  
"I didn't ask to be your charity case!"  
 **-But you did** -  
"Clearly I've handled everything just fine without you."

"Handled it? It's been months, and you're still hung up on that.. that fucking leech."

The pit I'd been teetering over for months swallowed me whole at Jacobs brutal words. He'd moved close, his impossible heat fanning over the rivers streaming hotly down my cheeks. I felt my arms squeezing painfully at my gut, my swollen ribs protesting futilely against the pressure, but I didn't care. I had lost Edward, and his family, **MY** family. I'd left my mind and my heart somewhere down the road, and now I'd lost Jacob too. All I was left with was a pulse and this broken corpse I survived in, and a complex threading of memories that cut me like a knife.

"Don't.. don't call him that."

But it didn't matter anyway. Nothing did, and nothing ever would. If dying of a broken heart were possible, I'd be nothing but a steaming pile of ash.

The loud snap of the banister had me jumping from my skin, and I felt bile rise in my throat at the sight of the quivering boy before me. He'd fallen to his knees, a chorus of growls pouring painfully from his chest. Russet skin shook with his rage, as though the anger within him had become a new being entirely, and was clawing at the flesh to break through. Terror raced through my immobilized form, and a piercing shriek belted over the room as his bones began to crack. The seemed to move of their own accord, stretching and shifting and bulging in unnatural ways. The words I'd been grasping for were suddenly clear as day, the final points clicking seamlessly into place.

' _Did you know Quileutes are supposedly descended from wolves?_ '

  
............

  
_**PAUL LAHOTE** _

  
I could hear the muddling of voices as we edged closer, blasting through the treeline across her home only minutes from the first jab of terror from her. Jake's voice was low, dripping with fury, and the hot smell of burning, morphing flesh was clear as day.

"Jake..? What's happening," Bella mumbled from inside the house. The fear in her voice was tangible, and my gut welled up in my throat.

_'So help me god, I'll kill him if he hurts her. I might kill him anyway_.'

At the sound of exploding wood, all three minds came to the same conclusion, thinking unanimously;

' _ **Shit**_.'

And I was running, refusing to slow down. I'd crash through that damn wall if I had to. Lupine claws hammered over the grass, springing into the air over the ditch. Bare, caramel feet landed, and slapped viciously over the pavement with each step. I had to go faster, I needed to be there NOW.  
Rather than slamming through the wood of the door, I had the good sense to turn the knob, pushing with all my might. It cracked wildly into the wall behind as my naked body burst into the room at full speed, and Bella wailed incredulously. A heap of fiery, copper skin lay on the hardwood, the shredded banister scattered around the room.

' _Not here Jake, get a grip god dammit_!'

In a blur, I was dragging a quivering Jacob, his soul caught maddeningly between forms, through the door from which I'd come.

"You fucking prick, don't you dare," I yelled.

Bella's screeches filled the room, and she called my name, but I couldn't focus on her now. I needed to get Jacob out, I had to keep her safe. He hurtled from my arms into the grass as his body exploded, fur and fangs springing into being from seemingly nothing. But the rage didn't end as the phase won him over, and I was shifting on impulse before I could blink.

  
................

  
_**BELLA SWAN** _

  
Werewolf. My sweet Jacob was just another monster in the cruel joke that was my life. The inhuman heat, the bitterness towards his natural enemy.. It all made sense. Except that none of it made sense. Why would vampires be real, and why had I thought one would love me, plain old Bella Swan? Why would Jacob be any different now that his supernatural senses could pick my flaws apart with pinpoint accuracy?

And why in the hell was Paul running through my living room towards a volatile Jacob, butt-ass naked and angry as all hell!?

I couldn't peel my eyes from the impossible string of events unfolding before me, only vaguely aware I was still screaming. As the sounds of fabric and flesh being torn apart on my front lawn faded further away, I was left trembling on the couch, alone.

Always alone.

  
..............

  
_**PAUL LAHOTE** _

  
' _Jake stop_ ,' Embry pleaded.

But he wasn't hearing. He was blinded by the anger of the animal, growls pouring from his snout as it curled back to bare his teeth. All he saw were Cullens, imagining ripping their heads off individually.

For a second, he imagined Bella loved him back, and then my wolf was sinking his teeth into him. As we fumbled over the earth, I rolled him towards the cover of the trees, away from Bella. We were swimming through a rocky sea of shared thoughts, both out for blood thinking of the same girl. He was too far gone in the whirlwind to piece together the puzzle, to realize he'd already lost. My clamped over the enemy's throat, crushing the whimpering dog beneath me. I pinned him flat until the rage began to dwindle, Embry and Jared piling on heavily to draw him back from the black hole within him. Slowly, his thoughts took on a semblance of humanity, and his breathing slowed. His pulse thundered beneath me as his brain struggled to catch up.

' _That's it champ, slow down_ ,' Jared cooed, as though talking to a child.

He lay limp, soft howls cracking on his tongue, and, when we were certain he had given up, I pushed off of him.

' _Go, we got it_ ,' Embry's thoughts whispered.

Scouring the woods for the forgotten pair of shorts, I struggled for calm, needing to be with the girl I'd fought so fiercely for. The familiar rumble of Sam's truck blared over the highway, inching closer to the house as I began to shrink. Tugging on the borrowed fabric, I scurried to the mouth of the doorway, still gaped wide as the horizon, to where Bella lay helplessly. The salty scent of tears and sweat oozed generously from her shivering skin. I crept to the edge of the couch, sinking to my knees before her. Sharp wooden fragments dug into the skin there, but I ignored it, focusing on her cowering shoulders.

"Bella," I whispered, startling her half to death. I recoiled at the terror that flashed across her face; she was afraid of me.

"What the fuck did you do to him!" She roared.

"Noth-.. look, we gotta talk," I fumbled out, willing myself to sound more sure of myself. I reached for her, needing to soothe her, but her miniature, pale hands shoved me off.

"Stay away from me," she spat. The bond cut savagely at my veins, adrenaline fading quickly to despair.

"What are you."

As I looked into her glistening eyes, tears streaming down her face, her voice was strong. She demanded answers, and I would give them to her, even if everything had gone so wrong. I heaved a sigh as I scooted further from the sofa, planting myself on the floor a few feet away. When I opened my mouth to speak, I only hesitated for a second before it all came tumbling out.

Finally, there was nothing left to hide.


	10. The Wolves Descend

_**SAM ULEY** _

  
Trusting in the spirits was much easier managed when they weren't slinging wicked curveballs, covered in crap, like it was their day job. But for a while now, that seemed to be the only thing the pesky gods had left on hand, and there had been hell raining down like a monsoon, obliterating any shred of the lives we'd lived before all of this began. Normal seemed like ages ago. Back then I'd been nothing more than an ordinary faithful man, months away from a wedding I had been dreaming of since the very day I met the firecracker that was Leah Clearwater. Even as a child she'd been nothing shy of a spitfire, and her hurricane of strength and charisma had grown fluidly, as she did. That she would even consider a marriage proposal from the likes of me had been a pure stroke of luck, much less when she'd actually agreed! A bright college career illuminated on the path ahead not long after. I spent the few years post graduation saving every spare dollar I could get my hard-worked hands on. The most beautiful woman, made of honey and fire, stood surely by my side through everything, cultivating big plans of her own. I remained level-headed and certain of the future, facing life like I had already cracked the code; nothing could stop me and my girl.

..Until a wild fever set in, and nobody saw it coming, not even Billy Black.

For weeks before that very first time, hot aggression built up inside me with restless fervor, refusing to ebb and fade no matter how hard I struggled against it. I got into fights - with Leah, with my parents, with strangers. - and took to running off steam in the woods. I ran, called to the pine like birds to a flock, from the confusing fear. An unknown, monstrous something welled beneath nervous skin, persuading me to bow in its presence. Hardened fists collided with the thickest of trees, and I fell in awe each time a scattering of splinters exploding like shrapnel over the forest floor. But still, it did nothing to curb the insatiable appetite of the Beast, and I pushed those nearest me further away. These inexplicable muscles sprouted from seemingly nowhere, inviting unwanted lust and terror. Whatever those new feelings were, they stemmed from the thing, and every heightened instinct insisted that I wasn't safe. I sprinted blindly in hopes of escaping that snarling voice, horrified to find that he'd built thick, unshakable roots within the walls of my skull. He was quiet at first, no more than a hushed murmur, and I passed him off as vivid imagination. But the more time I spent among the trees, the louder the whispers became.

' _I'm in you're blood, Samuel. You cannot run. There is nowhere you can hide from me.'_

He pushed and he pulled and he clawing, prowling tirelessly towards the surface. The beast howled and cried and seethed every second I refused him. I let the tension coil for months, bending my back under the weight of a world I hadn't believed to exist. Who would? Even with the vivid dreams of the histories playing in a constant loop through my dreams, I ignored what the spirits were trying to tell me. I saw through the eyes of Taha Aki, who still roamed the earth, the legends of the first pack. He showed me what was to come, and all that had transpired, and yet I chose not to believe it. Not until my bones gave way for the Wolf in my veins, and the form-altering blood of Levi Uley ignited the feral shift inside me.

With a careless snarky comment over the phone from my neglected lover, all resolve of holding him at bay snapped like a twig. I had crumbled the earpiece to dust, like it was nothing, and the snapping of my spine mingled eerily with agonized screams. I was left with nothing but the paws on my bedroom rug and a dog-shaped hole in my bedroom wall, that took over a month to fix. I hadn't been able to regain my skin for weeks, even with Taha Aki's insistent, lupine coaxing.

' _Go to the Elders, let them see the Warrior and they will cloak you in humanity,'_ he urged _._

On the thirteenth night of pacing the woods, I collapsed behind Old Quil's quaint log cabin. He found me in the morning, wheezing my way towards death, and spoke the legends I'd been hearing all my life. It was then that I had to believe what was right before me, what had been dwelling within me all along. It took me several more days to become the Man again after he told me the truth of the Cullens.

From then on, things changed so consistently, and so drastically, that I was forced to push the old me to the proverbial curb without daring a glance over my shoulder. The secrecy alone forged a deep rift in my relationships, the loss of my mother's trust one of the lowest of blows. By the time Jared phased as well, I could no longer afford to be the soft boy she had raised me to be, now needing to emphasize the steady hand guiding my pack brother. But leading another down a slippery slope that you yourself stumbled down, headfirst and unconscious, is something of a cruel trick, especially when lives depend on it. Around the time that Paul began howling in his sleep, plagued by nightmares of what he didn't know was to come, I forced my spirit being to prepare. I had to grow stronger to match Paul's physical advantage, and train myself, in order to train them how to use their new body as the weapon it was. As Taha Aki had predicted, the Elders began actively flooding us with information only we were privy to. But the the tales etched into ancient, leatherback journals were only so helpful, and we quickly realized just how out of our depth we really were. It was a learning curve, one from which we took whatever burdens it deemed us fit to carry. Sworn into a life we never asked for, the oath of silence left Leah bitterly at arms length. The Man in me pulled her close as he could, but the Wolf snarled his protest at the sight of her. We three bickered incessantly, her teary eyes pleading for me to tell her why I pushed her love away. I vowed to work through it, to return to her once I had a handle on things, and, for a while, it worked. The more my brothers and I honed our gifts, working and thinking together, the easier it all felt. I had hope, I could see that future with Leah that I always had.

Until Emily.

Her eyes tore gravity to pieces and tossed them to the wind, and the only thing holding me to the earth was her. For the first time, both Wolf and the Man were in perfect synchronization. There was only one, and she was everything. She cast me away, for Leah's sake, and I felt her betrayal like a knife in my gut. I sensed her hunger for something she didn't understand, and the deafening confusion. She cried for her loss when Leah damned her to hell, and I wept fat lupine tears for her too. Emily heard my tortured howls, and she wasn't afraid. Her instinct called to mine, even as she spat in my face for breaking two hearts to satisfy my own. I lay beneath her window each night, drawn by an ache that could only be eased at the pulsing of her heartbeat. She needed me near, as I needed her, but she didn't give in to the bond. When I was away from her, I gasped for air in the dirt as though she held my lungs, but couldn't find a way to return them.

It was only then that Harry Clearwater told me about the rare phenomenon. Imprinting. As he spoke the word, my Wolf purred in acceptance, like he'd known all along. With an explanation in hand and explicit permission to divulge everything to only her, I leapt at the chance to welcome Emily into our ranks. Understandably, she failed to comprehend at first, stumbling through the days in catatonia until something seemed to click. I'd felt it then, that unmistakable acceptance, and gone running. As the shaggy black fur of pure, menacing wolf crept from the trees behind her little cottage, she hadn't shied away. Barefoot, she had slipped determinedly from the safe wood of her deck down into the dirt. A tiny smirk ghosted over darkened lips, like she'd known I'd come, because her heart had called, after all. You never quite forget the details when a woman of Emily's caliber approaches you without a shred of reluctance, your name a delighted whisper on her lips.

Our ranks grew, first with Embry, and then Jacob. It was increasingly clear that young Quil Ateara would be following any day now. Speculations and accusations were thrust into the shakey pot at Embry's expense, when the implications of who his absent father could be narrowed to slim pickings. Only select genes carried the Warrior's curse, and he was apparently more than just a pack brother to one of us.

Three wives, three bloodlines; Black, Uley, Ateara.

We collectively declined to ask the one woman who would know for certain, because what did it matter now? And while said decision was partially to keep his mother out of the loop, it was mainly to spare the boy any more pain than the one he'd already grown up with, from never having a father. Whoever the man was, he was a coward, and Embry was better off. It was almost certain that he wasn't a Black, however, seeing Jacob battle his Wolf daily to make him follow behind an alpha. He was the rightful leader, and his instincts told him so every second he prolonged it, whereas Embry never felt the need to fight against mine, nor any direction.

When the time came to recite to Jared the history of the imprint, Emily had wailed with joy to add another female to the pack. Kim filled some of the void left by Leah, if only for the few hours a day they spent together in our kitchen. Each imprint brought something different to the pack, patching gaps with their abundant love that we didn't even realize we had until one came around. Emily was the softness needed in a world built by the sharp edges of hastily broken bridges. She became the parent we'd all been forced to push away, the open-armed den mother. Kim was a dense girl, kind and sweet, and in constant need for attention. She reminded the pack the stop every so often, to give in to the human urge to go to the beach. There was something magical in the way the boys would gather before her as she rambled on, soaking in her irrelevant chatter about highschool. She forced them to remember that there were normal humans, clueless and busy, that they were sworn to protect. She was their sister, vulnerable and in dire need of tender care.

So it came as no surprise that the first thought to my mind as I told the stories to Paul, was to wonder what we'd been missing all along, and how a broken Bella Swan would fill in such a gap.

  
................

  
_**EMILY YOUNG** _

  
Since the day my cousin - my best friend and sister- had pounded her fists on the door with all due fury and heavily salted wounds, very few things succeeded to surprise me. Lord knows they tried, as I'd sat wedged between one Samuel Uley and a handful of tribal Elders, the very axis of my existence had teetering on the edge of two worlds. In one, things carried on as they usually did, and nobody morphed into a giant dog and swore the rest of their life to you. I'd come to know that universe fairly well, having lived in it forever. Except.. they'd taken me outside, whispering that I was not to 'freak out,' and they'd shown me that I hadn't actually been living in that world all along. I fell into the abyss, swirling down the rabbit hole as I came to realize that the familiar earth I'd known had never really existed at all. That's not to say I hadn't fought against the imprint for all it was worth, a feat that left me horribly scarred.

Months of self loathing followed that fateful day; how could I betray Leah this way? She'd been nothing but comfort to me throughout childhood, leading me with confidence through the winding turmoil of adulthood. Side by side, we took on the world. I'd met the man she cherished only a handful of times, and I admired the way his eyes never strayed far from her face. She didn't miss a single Friday night phone call with me, not even when he began to monopolized her weekends with thoughtful dates and whispered 'I love you's'. My number was the first one she dialed the day Samuel had dropped to one knee, and there was already a scrapbook tucked away under my bed, full of dried flower cuttings, and bits of material in coordinated schemes suited to a wedding she'd be proud to call her own. So how was I supposed to live with myself when he suddenly couldn't stomach the sight of her? What did it say about me if I let him love me instead? Pushing him away left an ache in my chest I wouldn't wish upon anyone, but pulling him close had cut a hole in my dearest friend's heart.

It had taken me months to accept what I could not change, at great cost. This strange new world took my beauty, but in exchange for the most wonderful mate a girl could hope for.

From then on, life was filled to the brim with mythical creatures, monsters from the fairytales I'd devoured feverishly as a girl. Kitchen tables surrounded by crass, childish boys who'd grown ten times what they should have became the new natural, and I rolled gracefully with whatever punches were thrown my way. For as much as a family of half-naked boys filled my heart to bursting, it was still a welcome relief to fling my arms around the second female to enter the ranks. The news of Jared's imprint, Kim, came as quite a shock, in that the whole thing was supposedly an exceptionally rare occurrence. Two imprints? Imagine that!Initially I'd wondered if the men could see the soft, nearly angelic glow they suddenly sported. It was the same shimmering aura radiating between Sam and Jared, and Kim and I had picked up on it from the start. When we brought it up, they'd flashed us looks like we suddenly owned two heads and a couple of horns, and we'd never had the courage to mention it to them again. But we could see their emotions and needs clear as day; in the cutthroat red of their anger, and the ravenous orange left by almost insatiable hunger. I could see Jared's brilliant yellow joy as vibrantly as I could feel it in Sam. The sunset swirling of love when he gazed into Kim's eyes every bit as vivid as what I felt within my fiance. Perhaps it was our own unique talent as true mates, the spirits way of guiding us towards likened minds. So when a cautious, subdued Paul pulled up in the drive, and I could see his light all the way from the kitchen window, I definitely took notice.

Because not everyone was as thrilled about the matchmaking process as we were. Sweet Embry had fallen into somber resignation over the whole ordeal, choosing to soak up whatever time he had left as a free wolf beside a fire. He kept his gaze to the stars, carefully avoiding the eyes of young women when they happened by. That warm gaze settled on the dampened dirt wherever he walked, and most of the pack assumed he was just shy. Of course, I knew better after witnessing him clenching his eyelids tight every so often when passing a group of people. Given the unknown state of Embry's lineage, and the fact that his mother was not Quileute by blood, it was impossible to say whether he even qualified for the bond. The Elders had about as much knowledge of it as we did, which was only mildly disheartening.

And then there was Paul himself, who'd remained steadily indifferent. Tall enough to stare menacingly above anyone who came his way, he'd brushed it off as a freaky magic trick, and swore he wouldn't be caught dead under such a spell. For all that he could understand, it was an illusion of love, and he'd fight it till the day he died if it happened to him, though he was naively sure that it wouldn't. Some small part of me wondered if he'd long since relinquished all notions of romance in wake of a dark childhood, but it wasn't my place to ask, and he offered no background. I was wry to admit that when the Elders described it as the wolf choosing their best mate for reproductive purposes, even I shuddered at the thought. Surely I was more to Sam than just a fertile uterus, especially given the fact that we had no puppies to date. Paul's offhand nature towards imprinting held up until he'd tipped the scale in the most unimaginable way. While I'd always been able to draw out the sweetness in him, even if some days I had to beat it out of his thick skull with my good ladle, even I never saw it coming. He was a good man, testy and passionate and there when you needed him, no questions asked. He would stop a tornado with sheer willpower and his own two hands if it were for someone he cared for. You could hardly do better in a mate than Paul Lahote.

But he hesitated. He hadn't screamed it from the rooftops like Jared - literally, that crazy boy had scaled the house and howled the news at the top of his giddy little lungs - and instead kept his gaze low. Rather, he dodged the watchful eyes of one Jacob Black, and my hairs bristled. It couldn't be. Surely the spirits weren't that cruel? But I suppose they'd done worse to Leah..

"Oh, Paul, you poor thing.."

The quiet exclamation didn't reach the ears of the rowdy gathering on the porch. Disbelief clouded my mind, thoughts grasping for any other explanation and coming up blank. He might just as well have imprinted on Jacob's sister, and even that was sure to forge less of a rift between them. I watched pensively as he didn't join in on the typical mealtime banter. He brooded over his plate, clinging to the table with white knuckles, and I knew without a hint of doubt that it could only be one girl. Whatever course his train of thought had set, he deemed it worthy of keeping his mating quiet. He knew, just as well as I, that chaos would come of it, and I wasn't sure how the pack would weather such a storm. Jacob was rightful alpha, and his wolf was headstrong enough to tear the entire system apart if he were so inclined. The current way of things only worked because he let it, but the vampire girl was a sore spot on his radar. Sam mentioned he'd already gone so far as to try and clue her in, and it was clear that he wasas simply unpredictable when it came to her.

In an act of compassion, I tried to snag Paul an extra moment to go back, as though the kitchen weren't overflowing with assorted baking dishes. Just knowing that he must feel the unbearable ache of being apart, call me a hopeless romantic, but I couldn't help myself. What unfortunate luck that both Jacob and Embry jumped at the chance as well, and I defeatedly resigned the decision to Sam's capable hands. Fate had been right about Sam, and I wanted to be sure that it would be just as faithful to Paul. At the very least, I hoped so.

Huh, Isabella Swan. _What_ were those meddling spirits _thinking_!?

  
..............

  
_**PAUL LAHOTE** _

  
"I've already heard the story, Paul. Just spit it out."

It was around the fourth attempt that I realized I'd been blessed with an eternity dedicated to the most irritating, bullheaded female human being on the planet. I was begging her to let me finish by the seventh interruption, simultaneously wanting to hurl her across the continent, and tug her petulant little pout between my teeth. That shit was maddening at best.

"Bella, for God's sake ju- .. this is important." I scraped my nails over my scalp with a frustrated grunt. Admittedly, I was pretty on edge, considering I'd been away from her less than two fucking hours and she'd nearly been killed. "Besides, I promise you haven't heard it like this."

Her brow shot up in curiosity, but she finally kept her mouth shut when I eagerly ventured on. I started with the histories, eyes clasped tight to envision the tale as I spun it upon hungry ears, weaving an intricate web originating centuries before my time, leading to this moment. Bringing me to her. When I dared to look, she was hunched forwards in the same manner as I had been less than an hour before. Her perfect little nose scrunched in contemplation while she processed, and I paused to let the words permeate the shock. I definitely wasn't basking in her facial expressions, or her weird little quirks. Why should I care if she hugged her chest tight, as though those thin arms could possibly hold her together, or that she always bit her lip before dealing a heavy blow? I didn't, and I wouldn't, even if I did imprint on the girl.

"So.. if they're super secret," she began with downcast eyes above a deep frown. "Then why are you telling me?"

Jesus Christ, did she have to go straight for the kill? I could have been satisfied enough with a foolish girl, one like Kim, who never questioned a thing in her damn life.

"Don't freak out," I warned, and she nodded hesitantly. I sucked in a shaky breath, sapping courage from the bond with greedy abandon. Yeah, maybe I was selfish like that; so I called on her strength. That didn't mean I had to love her like some helpless, mystified pup. I drew tiny circles into my palms, trying to recall the stories Sam had told me only moments before, and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Damn if her worry didn't feel like hot knives in my gut.

"Isabella? What is it?"

Her crazed, disbelieving gaze travelled to mine, then sought out my fidgeting hands. They dropped down to her own, and back up again, freezing me clean in my tracks. The curious fear raging through her was liquid fire in my pounding chest.

"I thi-I.. I can feel that."

Maybe it was the inevitable crash of adrenaline wearing off, or the ludicrousness of what she suggested, but it was all I could do to blink back at her. She must have thought me to be a real idiot, because she pinched her arm, hard, and I flinched at the sting near my own elbow. Without hesitation, she mustered a shocking amount of force as she slapped herself in the face, and we cried out in unison.

"Impossible.." Her awestruck whisper did little to ebb my growing irritation. Yeah, real amazing. Figures my imprint would be an even bigger pain in the ass than I was.

"Fucking cut that shit out, would ya" I grumbled, patting my jaw. Jared chuckled from the doorway, arms crossed as he watched the exchange with a mischievous grin. The fucker probably knew all about the oddities of imprinting. He nodded to her in acknowledgement, a silent plea for permission to enter, and he found it in the slight swipe of her hand. At the short wave, he sauntered into the home, clasping the door shut on his way in. Bella gazed between he and I in fascination, sorting through some unknown revelation, and his presence seemed to set her at ease.

"Okay, tell me the rest." It came out like a demand, and my Wolf bowed before her obediently. Dumb dog.

Nerves had me fumbling over my words, but Jared chimed in where I fell short. Twinges of green-eyed jealousy crept through my mind over how comfortably he rested in her presence. By the end of it, he had squeezed in on the couch beside her. I noted the way she unconsciously scooted to sit up straighter, allowing him extra room to wedge his overgrown body into the space between her feet and the armrest. I tried to believe it was only leaving a slightly bitter taste in my mouth because of her injuries. That I wasn't envious of how close the were. I barely even knew the girl, after all.

Bella rattled her head in disbelief, the cute wad of hair piled atop her head bobbing side to side with the motion. Her face sunk into her tiny hands, and her heartbeat thundered through the silence of the room. It was all I could do not to reach for her, to tug her close and pepper her skin with reassuring kisses. I worried she'd have a heart attack if she kept on this way.

"So what are you saying," she whispered, and I understood the message behind it.

Bella needed me to give it to her straight, to hear the words. Part of me knew that my Wolf did too, the I already knew the pattern of reaction she'd fall into; we all did, and she'd be no different.

"I'm saying that.. you're my imprint."

First came shock. As though a switch was flipped, strangled laughter belted from her throat, quaking her shoulders uncontrollably. If I didn't have the bond, my features would have probably resembled Jared's panicked face. It was an expression I'd seen him pull the first dozen times Kim lost her cool over a minor inconvenience;

He thought she were crying.

Suddenly, I was laughing too. The amusement started with his helpessness, and quickly stretched over to the palpable emissions of joy coming from the girl. What really did me in, though, was the irony of it all. Here was yet another cruel, bitter twist in the fucked up world of creatures that shouldn't exist. I, the most temperamental of all of us, had been handed the one girl who couldn't seem to stay away from danger, and had been told to protect her by nature. The one name I'd scoffed at more times than she'd ever know now held me to the earth, the letters engraved into my soul. _What are the odds of that happening_? How did she manage to wind up in all these supernatural disasters when the girl could barely walk on a good day? She tossed her head back, wiping away tears as she clutched her gut, shaking her head with abandon. I laughed even harder as she snorted, a cheeky round of cackles bursting from her throat like sunshine through the clouds.

"Am I missing the joke here?" Jared gawked at the pair of us, his face frozen in an incredulous snarl like we'd lost our damn minds. We probably had.

"Y-you're..." She couldn't finish the sentence, another round of giggles leaving her skin flushed crimson.

"Fuck if I don't know know, it's-" I cut off, shaking my head against the giddy tremors, and clutching my own stomach against the aching delight. Mere words didn't do the situation justice. "Ridiculous."

Denial took hold for the briefest of moments, and the laughter died as she shook her head absentmindedly.

"This is impossible," she murmured. "He would have.. they never said anything."

"We have a treaty," I shrugged, all of the previous, psychotic elation fading to nothingness alongside hers. "We couldn't touch your leeches until they killed some human, or worse."

Her anger struck like a thunderstorm, heavy and sudden, consuming the light from her milk chocolate eyes.

"Why do you guys keep calling them that," she roared. "Have you ever considered they were more than just monsters?"

Again, I shrugged, like the idiot I was quickly realizing I had become.

"At least they don't kill people, which is more than any of you could say."

The last part was murmured under her breath, and Jared glared at her under long lashes. Given the way she recoiled into herself, I'm sure my own face held a generous amount of hostility as well.

"What in the cold-blooded fuck are you talking about?"

"My dad is the chief of police," she scoffed with a sour roll of her eyes. "I'm well aware of the mauled hikers, and I know all about the animal tracks at every crime scene."

"Did you even listen to a damn thing I said? We weren't built to kill people sweetheart, and there's only one thing we hunt," I growled, fighting for self control.

Not that I could condone Jacob's idiotic endangerment of the thick-skulled girl, but it was, at the very least, beginning to make a hell of a lot more sense.

"We've been following the trails of some redheaded bloodsucker who keeps coming back," Jared mediated.

The bond wreaked havoc on my nerves, tugging and twisting as though they could jump from behind my golden skin and take off out of town. Fear, rotten and foul, filled me to breaking, and I felt my throat tighten in anticipation. Bella really was in the middle of it all.

"V-Victoria's.. _here_?"

"Look," I bit out, pinching at the bridge of my nose. "I think it's safe to assume we aren't taking names here."

"You know her?" Jared inquired, lurching to the edge of the seat, his gaze intent and cautious. For half a second she seemed to debate whether she could talk about whatever story she had up her sleeve, but eventually sighed in defeat. As she droned on, her mind was elsewhere, someplace far, far away.

"Last year a nomad coven came through, while we were out playing baseball with.. with _Edward_ , and his family." Jared snorted at the idea, but she persisted."

"Some vampires have gifts, things that carry over from their human lives. Abilities. There was a gifted tracker with them, and he took a special interest in me, because I was the Cullen pet." I didn't miss the bitterness at the claim, or the way she avoided saying their names when she could. My wolf rattled inside his cage, snarling and spitting over a tale he had no control over, and began to whimper when she clutched at a scar on her wrist. A bite mark.

"He nearly got what he wanted, but.. And she's his mate."

I squinted back, unsure of the connection she had been trying to spell out for us.

"They mate for life, Paul. She wants me to get back at.. _him._ "

"An eye for an eye," I whispered, sick to my stomach. She nodded, and I shot from the floor to pace the room. "But they left."

"Doesn't matter."

"We won't let her get to you, Bella."

"You don't have much of a choice," she groaned. "Vampires are.. fast.

Jared smirked at her, a sly grin plastered over his mouth. "Yeah?" He teased. "Well we're faster."

A startled gasp escaped her lush red lips as she struggled to comprehend the news. I grinned at the other wolf, the distant taste of an easy fight still dripping from my jaws.

"Took out that other leech easy enough, one with dreads," I goaded, reminiscing.

"You killed Laurent?" Bella gasped in amazement.

"If that was his name." She raised a challenging brow my way. "Didn't ask."

"You can.. I can't believe it," she grumbled low in her throat. Clearly the poor thing had been initiated into the supernatural world on the wrong side of the line. The notion that the average vamp couldn't compare to the average wolf left her woozy, even flat on her ass as she was.

"You guys ar-"

It was all she could manage before her eyes swam back into her skull, black spots clouding her vision before swallowing her whole, and she was lost in a sea of unconsciousness.


	11. What Are The Odds

_**JARED CAMERON** _

' _That's it champ, slow down.'_

  
Jacob's Wolf fell silent beneath the two furry weights crushing him into the dirt. Remnants of the turmoil he'd created danced through the pack link between shallow, ragged breaths, mingling with the tangy afterbites of regret. While he was thoroughly riddled with deep pentinence over how easily self control had managed to slip through his fingers, what really ate away at him was the confusion. It didn't add up; Why had Sam's gag order suddenly failed to protect him from saying those awful things to her, from leaving their secrets bare? How could he have let things - let himself - get so far out of hand? The realization that he both could and would have seriously hurt her had the pack not shown up when they did settled restlessly over his quivering form. Hell, he could have killed her in an instant, and he would have been burried under that guilt for the rest of his miserable excuse of a life. The russet wolf drowned in shame, cold hands of dread suffocating all the fight he had left from his body. A pathetic sob whistled through the brush, almost drowning out the incredulous self-ramblings of the girl inside. Almost. The somber air to his inner musings felt much too intimate to share, as though I were an invader, peeking in uninvited on something all too private. Something pivotal, and deranged. The ball of my throat tickled, adams Apple bobbing as I swallowed over thickened throat muscles over the sickly urge to hurl. I wanted, more than anything, to escape the collective mind, but had to make do with simply forcing my eyes away. It did nothing to ease the nausea, and I found myself watching the scene through Embry's mind instead, indirect but every bit as disgusting. Jacob began to wonder whether maybe, just maybe, he had wanted to hurt her, if even for a second. He'd been ordered to stay away, to keep his stupid mouth shut. And sure, we all knew in theory that if Jacob's own wishes were rooted deep enough, that he as rightful alpha could trump Sam's directives. Much in the same way an imprint could. But there's no way he would have let himself get that angry at Bella.. would he?

I savagely vaulted the thought from my conscience, because I knew better. It was Paul's affections that had snapped the binding of silence, not Jake's hostility. I already knew this, and, more importantly, I knew Jacob, and the boy wasn't a killer. Not towards his worst human enemy, and especially not towards Isabella Swan. With the older shapeshifter standing right there, all thoughts of his imprint purely relying on his instinct to protect her, I remembered. Paul's mind was running in fast-paced imagery, and his ears were perked towards the house across the highway. His nostrils flared over the pungent, jittery aroma she emitted, though if he were afraid or just absolutely livid, it was hard to say. But it was nearly impossible to forget the secrets we were holding back on his behalf.

' _Go_ ,' Embry offered, his voice nearly silent beneath Jacob's tortured howls. ' _We got it_.'

I wasn't so sure, but with scarcely a nod, Paul's silver fur faded to golden skin, and he soon was recovering a faded pair of blue shorts from the forest floor. Silent feet carried him purposefully towards the house, and he was gone before we could blink. It was better with him out of sight, a little easier to keep it all out of mind, but it wasn't a cure. Thankfully, moments later, the rumble of Sam's truck approached - Curious all on it's own, considering he'd have gotten here much faster if he'd just ran, even on two legs. Maybe he needed to hide away from all this crazy bullshit too. Can't say I blamed him there. - I inhaled a steadying pull of breath, and it tumbled back out as pure relief.

Embry's mind had fallen eerily silent, a skill he'd perfected almost immediately after realizing we would all be in his head, and he in ours, and the distraction was beyond welcome. Normally I envied Embry's control, a gift most likely related to his stellar tracking - finding the untouched pool of silence the Wolf offered, and abandoning himself over to heightened senses gave him that extra, lethal edge as a tracker. Not to mention a healthy slice of privacy. - But today, the silence threatened to swallow me whole, and the sooner I could jump into my skin the better.

  
' _Jared, what happened,'_ Sam commanded as he finally phased in. I replayed what I knew for him, careful to omit the bits that weren't mine to share, earning a grave nod. ' _Paul_?'

  
' _House_ ,' Embry barked. Jacob's ears perked at that, and he wrestled weakly against us. He wriggled uncomfortably as he called out, his words every bit as incredulous as one would expect.

  
' _You guys sent him? Why not toss her a grenade while you're at it!_ '

  
I had to credit his panic, because he didn't know. How could he? Paul, on a good day, had proven himself more dangerous than any of us at our worst. The kind of guy who'd kick a tiger's ass for looking at him funny. He was violence incarnate, swinging from one mood to the next at the drop of a hat with his fists firm and ready. He was lucky, on multiple accounts, to not end up in prison over some of the bar room brawls we'd clawed him out of. While it surely hadn't helped the pack reputation among the reserve, his poor control had made him somewhat of a flaming target to other men, each as drawn to the fight as he was. A festering brood of moths to the flame, if you asked me. But.. he had other fixations now. Someone much softer to care for, and less feisty than the drunken fools who were always so certain that Paul was all muscle with no wits about him.. until it was too late.

  
' _No Jake, she's safe with him. I promise._ ' I nuzzled his chin with my nose, poking comfortingly at the pup's tears. My soft crooning combined with the moonlight coaxed him easily into submission.

  
But the declaration itself brought an unwarranted surge of memories to light, and we all watched in horror as he began piecing together the puzzle I'd so clearly laid out for him.

  
I hastily attempted to cover the blunder, digging a crudely formed hole to bury it six feet under, but the seed had been planted. Panic blossomed fresh in my gut like a sickening burst of spring. Seasons changed in Jacob from winter's dread all the way to a blazing summer heat, and the moment it clicked into place he growled low in his chest. A new series of emotions rippled through him like a tornado, unflinching and ravenous and unwilling to think before tearing up everything in it's path. Suddenly, he was too still, his mind too quiet. The predator had free reign over the boy, and was barely contained in his careful facade of calm words.

  
_'Tell me you're not suggesting what I think you are.'_

  
Again my thoughts betrayed me, despite the valiant attempt at smothering them under the rug. If I could kick myself in the face while restraining him, I would have.

  
_'You gotta be kidding me.'_

  
' _Jake, we didn't mean for you to find out like that_ ,' I whined. But sweet intentions meant nothing in the stone-cold face of reality. He pushed up from the dirt, tossing us from him like it was nothing, and I felt the collective burst forgiveness in Sam's and Embry's minds. That only made it worse.

  
' _You know he had no choice Jacob_ ,' Sam warned in the deep timbre of his voice, crouching low and ready to pounce.

  
Jacob lunged for the nearest throat regardless, Embry's, but the smaller wolf was faster on his feet. He didn't relent after the miss, making a sudden, enraged beeline for Sam. As he pinned the black wolf to the ground he was met with a gentle gaze, one that infuriatingly refused to fight back. Sam simply let Jacob take out the waves of aggression on his furry, limp form, healing just as fast as the future alpha could sink his teeth. We watched him rising with regal poise each time he was knocked down, until Jacob began to tire. A true leader knew when to lay down his arms, even if he wasn't quite surrendering.

  
' _He's not safe,_ ' Jacob roared. ' _You have to keep him away from her.'_

  
The Alpha countered with an image, a familiar girl, marred beyond recognition and withering away in a hospital bed. Sue Clearwater cleared debris from the open gash, stitching the wounds as best she could with what was left. The shame in Sam's ribs was sharp contrast to the rage within the girl's remaining good eye. The damage was irreparable, and the wounds were deeper than flesh. Even Jacob, with all his fury, knew that Sam couldn't keep Paul away. That he wouldn't dare even try, because he'd already survived the aftermath, and it wasn't pretty, even if Emily still was.

  
Embry inadvertently portrayed the frantic race from Emily's backyard, and the fearful shrieks pouring from the house. The scent of terror wafting in thick clouds from girl he claimed to love. In the tracker's mind, we saw how the scarring on Emily had almost been etched like a matching tattoo on Bella, and Jacob snarled at the comparison.

  
' _You should go home, Jake_ ,' Embry encouraged, shifting on his paws in an antsy, lupine dance. ' _Sleep on it.'_

  
He didn't mention how the baby alpha had nearly killed Bella with his lack of control, and that there'd already be all kinds of hell to pay from Paul the second he was finished seeing to his girl. Embry didn't bring up the part where he'd pined after the Bella with no inclination that she wanted him that way, that he'd ignored her when she brushed off his gestures. He didn't say that the spirits had unceremoniously given Jacob the big ' _fuck you, pal'_ when he himself hadn't imprinted on her. But then again, we all shared a mind, and so he didn't have to.

  
' _Look man, I'll sit with her until you can cool down_ ,' I offered, wishing I knew how to shit my fucking mouth.

I supposed it was only fair, considering I'd let the proverbial cat out of the bag. Surprise sprawled over Sam and Embry's snouts, stretching lazily into their thoughts as well, but Jacob tensed in response. Dubious concern twisted over his frustrated snarl, teeth bared, and I sighed in defeat. Serves me right for offering.

  
_'All night if I have to.'_

  
Finally, realizing he was out of options, he relaxed into his haunches. Looking rather like a scolded puppy, he nodded. Uncertainty lingered in the map of his russet face, and his tail twitched wildly behind him. Jacob succumbed to the Wolf, letting it breathe for him so he didn't have to. He rose up on four shaky paws, dashing into the woods with a saddened whimper towards a home that held too many reminders. I watched through his forlorn eyes until he shifted back, well out of view of Charlie's police car, knowing he'd creep through his bedroom window to sink down into sheets that felt entirely too empty.

  
' _Well_ ,' Embry sneered through a tiny crack in the tension. ' _Better get in there Mister "All-night-if-I-have-to." Wouldn't want to disappoint.'_

  
Even Sam managed a weary chuckle _._

  
' _Dont beat yourself up over it,_ ' he urged. I wished it were an order, because his comforting words did little to soothe the guilt. ' _He would have found out tonight anyway.'_

  
_Yeah,_ I wanted to scoff back. _But he didn't have to find out from me. Not like THAT_. I shuddered into my human form as they rambled off plans between the two for the night patrol, grateful to escape prying minds. I sauntered towards the edge of the brush, realization dawning seemingly in sync with the youngster of the pack. Embry rumbled in amusement at my forgotten nakedness, and the self-loathing side of me, still angry that I'd willing vowed to stay near the flaming target for death all night, was inclined to just roll with it. Screw it, she was pack now, and the sight of our junk was an inescapable fortune. He lifted his back paw like a circus dog in the act, and I swore I saw his jowls tipping up at the edges. His canine face always held more humanity than the rest of us, seeming to hold a plethora of expressions that should have been impossible in that form. But it was an offering nonetheless, and I muttered a low thanks as I untied the pair of shorts from his muddy white paw. Slipping fluidly into the pair, only a tiny bit snug, I was still clasping the buttons as I padded across the lawn.

  
The dull hum of speech slunk lazily through the open door to the house, and I inched closer with perked ears. Didn't want to interfere on an important conversation, after all. Especially not when it came to a newly forged imprint, much less Paul. The hackle-raising, on edge vibe in the first few weeks with Kim had been a special kind of hell for the rest of my brothers; snappy remarks and territorial flares of anger had been the least of their worries. It sort of went without saying that a wolf would feel threatened after finding their absolute mate, given there was no guarantee we'd be as equally received on their end. There was always a gamble that they'd turn us away, or go so far as to refuse the imprint once they were made aware. We were creatures of action, both as men and as wolves, and we needed weeks of reassurance to satiate the beast. Paul had yet to even break the news, and I wanted nothing less than to be caught in the inevitable crossfire while his levels balanced out.

  
"Isabella," Paul shuddered, the rising panic evident on each syllable. "What is it?"

  
"I thi-I.. I can feel that."

  
I poked my head in the entryway, but, if either was aware of my presence, they gave no inclination. They sat locked in an awed trance, each gazing at the other as though they'd just discovered light itself, and it stemmed from within their eyes. I smirked as Bella pinched her elbow, and Paul recoiled as the pain stabbed through his own arm, knowing it would feel to him as it did to her. If she pinched him directly, he likely wouldn't even notice. As soon as one of her tiny, ineffectual hands wound back, coiled tight with as much force as someone so little could muster, I knew I wouldn't regret my choice to stay. I couldn't quite hold back the sinister giggle when she wailed herself in the jaw, muttering about the 'impossible' reaction it pulled from the wolf before her. He cursed, not quite under his breath, before irritated brown eyes fixed me with a glare like it was my fault. Just wait till he found out what actually was my fault.

  
Ahh, the joys of discovery. The first time I'd felt a phantom sensation from Kim, she'd been flat on her back, writhing beneath me with my name on her thin, perfect lips. My body had basked in pleasure right alongside her, and we'd played around with the trick for days, teasing each other with the knowledge of deliciously dirty antics happening miles away. Jesus, I'd ruined more shorts in that initial month than all the time I'd spent as a shifter combined. Clearly, Paul wasn't going to be so lucky.

  
Bella waved me inside, every bit as awkward as Jacob had envisioned her to be, and I crossed the threshold for the second time in my life. While I didn't have much to go on, and couldn't put my finger on why, I immediately knew it was different that night. Maybe it had nothing to do with the coming news at all, and was more so that I'd never really seen Bella Swan up close. Sure, we watched her house like a couple of creeps, and prowled around out of sight to ensure the Cullen's never ate her, but I hadn't gotten a good look at her. Honestly, I just never really cared to; aside from being a regular star in Jacob's incessant inner monologue, of what significance was she to me? A damned leech lover, and worse still because she knew it. She craved their affection, even toeing the line and begging to be made.. one of them.

  
The absence of her father, however, was clear as day. His car was gone, his scent was turning stale, and the TV was off. There was no beer on the coffee table, no boots on the mat, and nobody complained about the herd of shirtless Quileutes roaming in and out of the living room. And, though I had nothing against the Forks Chief of police, it was a comfort to not have to explain our arrival to the girl's dad. He'd probably pull his trusty shotgun at the sight of us in his trashed living room.

  
I settled my gaze on hers, and I felt a slight shift in the both of us. Her slim shoulders relaxed in the mildest of ways, and a bond forged in the silence. Suddenly, she was every bit the sister Emily was, and I embraced her presence in my life for what it was; eternal, unshakable, and unimaginably important. Her existence had purpose, and she was crucial to the eventual twist of events. Her jaw hung slack, and her eyes hovered between Paul and I, drawing some sort of conclusion. Kim had mentioned the glow before, and she must have seen it. It was that, or shock, and maybe both.

  
"Okay," she uttered boldly. "Tell me the rest."

  
So we did. Paul's voice occasionally wavered, and I jumped in to finish the string of sentences he muddled together, tying up loose ends. We threaded the stories into her mind, wrapping her so tight within them that she inched forwards on the couch, as if we'd pulled her in. She was enthralled as we spewed our histories at her feet, and she didn't hesitate to pick them up for what they were. She'd heard of the vampires, demons that were unnaturally cold and repulsively undead, and the shapeshiting warriors created to destroy them. Hell, the woman had lived it! But as we drawled over the mates assigned by the great spirits, she fell into her thoughts, piecing together the insinuations with scholarly prowess. She didn't flinch as Paul did when I plopped beside her resting feet, a space that smelled heavily of Jacob and angst. Instead, the gap widened. She made room for me as I had for her; on the couch, in her unsheltered world, in her heart. ' _Ours_ ,' purred the animal.

  
"So what are you saying?"

  
This was it, the point of no return.

  
"I'm saying that.." Paul hesitated, and it wasn't my place to jump in and save him this time. He was lost at sea, and this was where he'd either sink or swim. God, I hoped he could swim.

  
"You're my imprint."

  
A wild thing leapt from her throat, hollow and suffocating. Her shoulders quaked under the news, one she'd already known the moment we began. Anxiety rippled over her sweet scent in waves, crashing in a never-ending tsunami. Dear Jesus, she was crying. We'd come in, sporting cut-off jeans and the heat of the sun, and we broke the camels back with a single piece of straw. And then Paul was laughing loud and deep and throaty, like the biggest asshat on the planet. The salty sting in the air from her hidden tears wrenched at my gut, but I froze. What do you do when girls cry?! They're so small and soft and they break your heart whether you let them in or not, and Paul was laughing. Actually laughing!

  
Bella's head whipped up at the sound, and there was nothing but amusement in her eyes. I realized she was laughing too, and felt like an idiot, because clearly she was insane. I was shackled to yet another lunatic, great. They were both losing their minds, wracked violently by something far more sinister than delight, but I couldn't, for the life of me, see the reason. Well, the spirits sure can pick em.

  
"Am I missing the joke here?" I wondered aloud.

  
It only had them wailing harder, slapping their knees and wiping away their giddy tears. They babbled incoherently, like infants, and all sense in the matter seemed to have checked out for the night. Or, at the very least, it was taking a nice long coffee break. Before I knew it, they were talking about the Cullens, and my mind was spiraling out of control, grasping at anything on the way down that could pull me back up into the realm of reason and sensibility. This was all too much, everything was happening too fast. I was benched on the sidelines, watching a game play out. She was yelling, because she hated the term that so accurately defined what they were. I listened as she accused the pack of killing people, defending her band of bloodsucking demons, and the disgust that singed over the bond left a bitter taste in my mouth. I could smell that Paul was angry, every bit as offended as she was, and afraid she'd turn him away.

_'We need her!'_ The animal snarled in outrage, demanding justice. _'Make her accept us.'_

Against my better judgement, I heeded his fitful cries.

  
"We've been following the trails of some redheaded bloodsucker who keeps coming back," I offered warily, diving back into the chaos with peaceful intentions.

  
But the declaration didn't ease her mind like I'd expected it to, rather it lit her nerves like a firework, and she was suddenly sweating profusely. Bella hit back with the shocking revelation that the Cullens were even worse than we thought. That they had abilities we hadn't foreseen, advantages we would have never known to combat. Telepathy, foresight, devious manipulations of the mind. Sneaky bastards. I could practically taste her stale terror, and the bitter way she resigned herself to an inevitable death at the hands of the redhead. Of course she didn't know that we'd protect her till our last breath, but how do you tell someone that, when you've only just met?

  
I settled on humor, pleased to have surprised her when I told her we were faster than a vampire. Yeah, until the floor swayed beneath her and her brown eyes rolled back. When she passed out, it's safe to say that I was significantly less proud of myself.

  
"Goddammit!" I hissed, at the same time Paul let out his own impressive string of curses, and we both lunged to catch her before she tumbled to the floor.

..............

_**EMBRY CALL** _

I leaned my back lazily against the thin wall, halfway between the kitchen and the living room. The whirring of the tap was a melody every bit as relaxing as being in her presence. There was only comfort to be found by her side, even on the hard floor as I was, and I thought fondly on the days spent in Jacob's garage. She'd become an ever-present fixture there, where she would let Jacob put both her and those bikes back together. Of course, things were different now, but she finally knew why and it was thrilling. She was something familiar in this strange new life we'd been granted, and a reminder that we didn't have to let go of everything. It wouldn't be the same as it was in that garage, but it hadn't been since the first day she pulled into Jake's drive. It wasn't long before she had somehow managed to weasel her way into a friendship as old as time. She widdled a space in our brotherhood, a hollow just big enough for her to fit wholly into, and we'd thrived, growing in around her until it was impossible to tell that she wasn't there before. While it had always been Jacob, and Quil and myself, until her, she was infinitely welcome. It had just felt right, like she was destined to be there; Turns out, that feeling was far deeper than warm sodas and sappy, sentimental affection.

  
Jared was frightened that Bella still hadn't woken up, but she didn't seem restless as she normally did. For months we'd heard the tossing and turning over her purple sheets, and cast our glances anywhere but her bedroom window when she woke with a start and Edward's name on her sweat slick lips. That agonized cry, as she begged the undead prick not to leave her haunted the pack mind come dawn, as one wolf relieved the other of their endless patrol relay. It was, perhaps, the first time I'd heard her sleep so peacefully. Truth be told, the dark pools beneath her sunken eyes were more than enough to vouch that she desperately needed the slumber, and it was a comfort in itself that she had finally succumbed to her body. Paul, like any faithful watchdog, growled at anyone who strayed too close, and nearly chewed Jared's hands off at the wrists when he'd tried to wipe the sweat from her brow. He'd do it himself goddammit, and he'd kill anyone who attempted to slip one over on him. Jared ambled over my outstretched legs, a bowl of warm water and a dishcloth nestled between large palms. He slid the plastic container atop the coffee table, offering it to a seething Paul in as unthreatening a manner as he could. You don't show a predator your back, and you don't poke a wolf no matter how long the stick is.

  
"You guys know we can't stay here, right?"

  
I let my fatigued eyes drift shut, thankful beyond words that Sam had taken the first patrol shift. Come to think of it, I could hardly remember the last time I'd slept. My declaration had each wolf tensing in response, as though the thought hadn't crossed their minds.

"You wanna bet," growled Paul, and I rolled my eyes behind their lids. If we thought Jared was bad, Paul was already worse.

"Charlie won't be thrilled if we're still here when he gets back." I raised a brow, the darkness parting slightly as I peeked through one eye. "Yenno, unless one of you has a pretty good story to justify why his daughter is unconscious and surrounded by three shirtless dudes."

  
Jared chortled low in his chest, shaking his head as he flashed his palms defensively.

  
"Hey, I promised the baby I'd watch her all night."

  
A dark twinge of satisfaction at Jacob's pet name coursed through me. It was rather fitting; Even Kim hadn't whined so much over the downfalls of packhood, and she absolutely loathed the weeks she barely got a glimpse of her imprint. She'd been pining for Jared almost as long as Jake had for Bella, and she was still childish enough to literally pout when she didn't get her way. But nobody teased her for it, except her boyfriend, and he only did it occasionally and always in good nature. Jacob on the other hand, took his fair share of crap. Anyone with a brain knew that I loved the guy, but he tended to be a bit.. egocentric. Incessant protests glided over his teeth like butter off a hot knife, as he moaned and groaned about this horrible life and how his wonderful girl didn't love him back. He wouldn't hear it when I tried to tell him that she loved him platonically, and had made it very clear. They were destined, she just needed to see it, and that was that. Paul had finally had enough one day, and kicked him to a pulp until he promised not to think of her while he was phased. They'd taken to calling him a baby after that, because he soiled his diapers and bitched like one.

I was the youngest in age by several months, and had been the "new" wolf for what felt like eons before he phased, but my brothers never treated me as inferior. Probably because I hadn't once complained, aside from the common grumbling every time I tore out of my last good shirt. - Seriously clothes that fit were harder to come by just from being tall, much less with humongous sizes on the shelves being few and far in-between. - I guess, in the end, I really hadn't had all that much to lose. Sure, I may have been torn from my best friends for a while, but they had the bloodline, and I knew they'd be in the pack soon enough. But Tiffany Call was hardly around, and, despite being my mother, she was hardly one. She was a single parent, and work took priority. That was something I could appreciate, as we always had food, and a roof over our heads. But we never had a relationship, and she sought out love elsewhere. She searched high and low, checking under the covers of whoever could charm her out of the barstool. Even when I had long since started slipping through my bedroom window to take on patrols, she'd only noticed I'd had a massive growth spurt when she found me passed out at the kitchen table. She thought I was a drunk who had mistakenly wandered into the wrong home in the night, and she had beat me with a broom until she recognized me.

  
"Why," Paul glowered, a single shiver racing up his spine as he yanked me from my musings. "Does he honestly think I'm going to hurt her?"

  
"He's just sad because he's been hot for her since she was potty trained," I slurred, sleep beckoning me in. God I was tired, and it felt so good being around Bella.. If I woke up on the rug to the barrel of Charlie's shotgun, then so be it. My face split open in a wide yawn, and I decided to stay there forever, and never move. Or.. I'd stay as long as I could. "He'll get over it at some point."

  
"Probably," Jared piped in. I shrugged, giving in to the dipping of my long lashes. They pulled together, shielding my pupils from the intrusive light filtering in from the kitchen.

  
The hairs at the nape of my neck sprung instinctively to attention, mere seconds before an urgent howl trumpeted over the treetops. A symphonic siren meant to draw us from wherever we were, commanding our attention and our presence. Groggy as I was, I knew we couldn't ignore it, and rose to my protesting feet quicker than I could register. But Paul and Jared were much more lively, and were on their way out the door with their pants around their ankles before I could even reach for the buttons.

  
"Stay with her," Paul ordered, a silent warning in his tone; He'd rip my arms clean off if I didn't. And then they were gone, off into the woods as naked as the day they were born.

  
I paced the room in restless frenzy as the minutes ticked by. Even the satisfying comfort I'd sapped greedily from Bella was no match for the cagey clawing of the Wolf. My fingers trembled, but I was far from phasing; I was nervous. Every inch of me set ablaze, because I'd heard that howl only once before. It had been just a few weeks back, and it ignited a rocky chain of events, leading to now, bringing us here. It was the same cry Sam had wailed when Jacob had phased that very first time, and it could only mean one thing.

  
There was a new wolf.

  
My grubby, frantic feet turned to lead, because the only one with potential that was even close to phasing had fallen into the lap of someone Jacob and I loved dearly. Quil Ateara. We been forced to sit idly by, watching painfully from afar while our brother, for all intents and purposes, had grown increasingly livid at the abandonment. When I left him hanging, he'd at least had Jake. Now he had no one. But.. he hardly reeked of fever in the last day or so, and we weren't expecting it for a fortnight more, at the least. Guilt flooded between my clenched teeth, because these last few weeks he hadn't had anyone, and it must have finally gotten to him. Inappropriate, happy-go-lucky Quil had dissolved quicker than I'd ever known him to, enough so that his anger couldn't be contained within a human body much longer. Jesus, we'd practically slapped him a fast ticket to a lifelong sentence by pushing him away.

  
In the silence of an unfamiliar home, I clung to the only comfort I had left; cleaning. I raided the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink for a pail, and feeling far too pleased to find one of those giant yellow sponges. So what if it had me thinking of a gaggle of bikini clad girls washing cars; I was still a man. I filled the bucket with hot, sudsy water as quiet as I could, and plopped it on the floor to purge if of our dusty footprints. It didn't take nearly as long as I'd hoped to scrub the kitchen tiles, and so I set about finishing the few dishes left on the counter as well. Devoid of soggy, leftover debris, I dried each plate and cup and bowl and stacked them in their respective homes among the shelves. It wasn't enough. Behind the trash can I spotted a broom, which I wielded to make quick, soundless work of the wood splinters scattered across the living room floor. Then I scrubbed that floor too, doting on the shallow ledge of the baseboards. An hour came and went, but I had lost myself in odd jobs. A thick, dreamy fog of satisfaction nestled deeper in my gut, because I hadn't enjoyed myself like this in far too long. My mother had never been one for mindless house chores, therefore hadn't passed the necessary trend down to me like most parents did with their offspring. Cleaning to pristine was a discipline I'd found all on my own a very young age. I paused my erratic tidying for a glass of water, chasing it quickly with another. Then another, and half a cup afterwards. But the momentary rest left room for unwanted thoughts, doubt and grief seeping over my taught skin.

  
Things didn't normally take so long. If he'd been outraged enough to rush the process so dramatically, why hadn't anyone come by or called with news by now? Unless something was seriously wrong.. No. I wouldn't think it. Besides, each wolf was different, and there was no use worrying over what wouldn't be changed by worrying, was there.

I ventured further into the house, decidedly abandoning all moral shyness as I pried open door after door in search of my next cleaning conquest. One such entrance revealed a laundry room, where several baskets awaited my sorting.

"Jackpot," I mumbled to no one in particular, a sly grin plastered on my lips.

Granted, they probably weren't waiting _specifically_ for me, but I planned to sort them shamelessly nonetheless. After a careful whiff, I set the dirty pile into the machine. I measured the soap into the allotted cap, pressing all the right buttons to set it into motion. The dulling hum washed over me, cleaning my mind of the intrusive worries. There was no space for outside thoughts here, where cold water pumbled dry stains from soft fabric, there was only laundry. The first basket was the least invasive, and I set myself wholeheartedly to the task of folding towels, creasing and bending them with pinpoint precision. I set the neat stack back in the basket before moving on to the next. A heap of plaid flannel and dark polyester that smelled of old car leather and stale coffee spilled over the edge of their confine. It was a pleasant aroma, oozing of something so very Charlie amd mixed with the fresh scents of detergent. I briefly wondered if he kept his clothes in a dresser or hung them in his closet. But he was a bachelor, and Bella wasn't what I'd call a stickler for fashion, so I guessed it would be the former. Once the mess of the bin was contained to the bottom, where lay a mangled scattering of mismatched socks and ratty fishing shirts, my gaze fell on the final hamper. 

  
Bella's.

  
Now, while it wasn't a habit of mine to dig through women's laundry, I figured both Paul and Bella could at least forgive me for what followed, in the name of lending a helping paw. Because there was a **LOT** of.. erhm, _feminine_ items in there, and I failed to take note until I was wrist deep in the damn lot. Shit. But the damage was done, and I prayed to any and all gods that the scent of my hands on Isabella Swan's panties didn't get me killed. I dutifully smoothed out her outfits, mainly a cluster of jeans and hoodies and old, worn t-shirts, and avoided the forbidden fruit as best I could. Nervously picking through the dwindling lot until I reached the last sweater, I carefully packed the tidied pile over the.. _unmentionables_. A shudder wriggled up my spine, because thinking of Bella in her underwear was not something I ever onteny to do. Wait- scratch that, because I definitely didn't want to think of her **NOT** in her underwear either! Christ, I had to get out of there.

  
I surveyed the space, wondering if I was moving really fast, or if things were taking too long. A glance at the clock showed it was nearly eleven, and I fidgeted uncomfortably. Three hours without word. Someone should have come back, or called, or howled at the fucking moon by now. Or something. Irritation threatened the fraying the edges of my resolve. If they would take a second to clue me in on the new important happenings, maybe I wouldn't have resorted to.. the laundry room fiasco. At the time, it seemed harmless enough, but in hindsight I felt like a creep. Shouldering the feeling that I would probably be getting my ass kicked for it sometime relatively soon, I searched for anything else that might hold my attention. Water glass in hand, I found it upstairs, at the bottom of the toilet bowl. I scrubbed it until my hands were raw, attacking hidden grime with the bristles of the toilet brush. My frets abated significantly as the ivory porcelain beamed back at me, looking brand new. They died off even more as the ugly ring of filth around the bathtub chipped away beneath an old rag. I sipped at my refreshment, scrubbing and dusting and peeling away the mess. There was no room for brooding as I plunged into every corner and crevice in sight. The more I cleaned, the more I found in need of cleaning. Bella's house was in tip-top shape, ready to sell by the time she began to fuss.

  
The stuttering of Bella's pulse tripped my alarm bells, unintentionally awakening the predator in me. I stalked into the room, silent as a mouse on Christmas, and succumbed to my senses. I didn't mean to, but she seemingly had zero skills when it came to self-preservation. My hulking form slipped undetected down the creaky stairs, right past her nose, and into the dark kitchen. More monster than man, sharpened ears tracked the rhythmic pounding of her heart, and sensitive nostrils greedily drank in the nervous edge to her scent. I watched her in her panic, and the hunt overwhelmed the animal. Her limp form stirred beneath the heavy blanket of restful slumber, and she glanced around the room. Thinking she was alone, she let herself slump back into the armrest, more than relaxed. Clearing my head of the hunter, I immediately felt bad. Instinct faded sheepishly into the background, and I realized that, though it would definitely scare the ever-living shit out of her, I had to announce my presence. Shit.

_Shit shit shit! Pull yourself together Embry_.

Slinking back into the shadows of the kitchen, I made a grand affair out of clinking my now empty glass down on the counter. There, at least she knew I was there. I only winced a little the measly squeal, followed by a loud crash as something hit the freshly mopped floor.

  
"H-hello..? Dad is that you?"

  
I stepped into the room once more, engulfed by the warm pool of light from the lamp in the corner.

  
"Just me," I called gently, spying her phone by the leg of the coffee table. She spun to face me as best she could, and I sauntered fully into her terrified view. Wouldn't want the clumsy thing to break her neck craning to see me.

  
"Embry," she blinked, barely relieved. "Hey."

  
"Hey." I grinned down at her, boyish and familiar. She hesitated, sucking in her full lower lip to worry it between her teeth.

  
"It wasn't a dream," she whispered, more statement than question. "Was it."

  
I shook my head with downcast eyes, stoic and full of regret.

  
"No, Bella. It wasn't a dream.." No matter how much we wished it was sometimes.

  
"Where's Jake?"

"Something came up," I shrugged. But in truth, I didn't know, and it was eating at me too. "They'll probably be back soon."

"He's not... He's not hurt though," she whimpered, her voice barely more than a gust of wind. I shook my head, amused.

"Nah," I admitted. "We're pretty tough. Supernatural dogs and all that."

She sighed under an impossible weight, one that crushed her almost to the point of eradication.

"Is everyone superhuman except me? Apparently I collect monsters like trading cards."

"Hmm," I murmured while I tapped my chin with a long finger in mock thoughtfulness. She waited, shifting uneasily as though I were about to wreck her shattered world further. "Maybe that's your superpower."

And despite the apprehension and overwhelming disquiet to the norm, she laughed.

  
.................

  
_**QUIL ATEARA V** _

  
At first, I thought it was a dream. Or rather, a vivid and excruciating nightmare.

**Pain**. Eradicating, overwhelming, immeasurable waves of pain. They crashed down around me in a neverending assault to my senses. They pounded through logic, sweeping away reason and the human capability of speech. The storm took cruel shape in every inch of flesh, raging both from nowhere and everywhere, all at once.

**Fire**. Engulfing, blistering, crimson heat. She licked her demonic tongue over me, and her scorching saliva seeped through the skin and into my veins. Hell incarnate swallowed me whole, as it had been threatening to for days, and faint whispers taunted at something deep within. Something feral and hungry that had always been there. Watching, waiting, biding his time. This animal, this.. too-wild thing had remained dormant since forever, but he finally decided that, tonight, he would take no more. Never again.

**Fear**. Unabating, suffocating, remorseless terror. It showed no mercy, continuously pumping freshly bloomed muscles with lead until they were too stiff to fight back. It pounced on the scattered beating beneath my ribcage, curling off my lips and breaking through the treetops. Why this, why me, why now? It was psychotic and cagey, flinching back from the voices hammering vague, useless comforts. Because there was no comfort here, and there would be none until the creature had his way. It was definitely not a dream.

"Don't fight it, Quil. It will hurt less if you give in!"

**Sam Uley**. Menacing, perfidious, friend-leeching bastard. He had some damn nerve to be here. He'd shown his face when the trembling began, barging into my room and dragging my writhing body outside. He'd already ruined my brothers, but he wouldn't get me too. I'd never bow to him, I'd sooner drop dead, and I told him so. The withering gaze of a man I was now sure was the Devil himself had been the last thing I saw before being dropped unceremoniously to the cold, wet dirt.

"We'll get you through this."

"Fuck you," I snarled, spitting blood from the gash, carved into my cheek by my own traitorous teeth. It was already healing by the time I could focus enough to realize it was there, and then it was gone. The entire world slipped away, even the hatred. There was nothing but the crimson flush blazing behind my eyelids and the fires gnawing at my core. I wasn't sure anymore if anything even existed outside of the twisting and snapping of my bones. What had they done to me? What else could they want? But there were more voices now, my grandfather's words both familiar and infuriating as they grappled me back to Earth. And earth that was doing its best to rid me of it from the inside out. But I wouldn't give in, not ever.

The old man's torytelling had no place in a moment such as this. I needed water, but it came out as a plea for one of them to just put a bullet in the head.

Put down the dog, he was suffering too much.

But death never came. It would have been too easy, and the demons demanded more. They wanted it all, and they didn't care that I had nothing left to give. They whispered to themselves, conniving and greedy, eating up the sight of me losing control.

' _Yesssss_ ', the demon hissed. ' _Let me out'_

The looming forms of the spectators ignored the boy drowning in agony on the grass. They didn't call for help as he did. They murmured under their sour breath, placating their own need for morbid entertainment, assuming I wouldn't be able to hear. But I could hear everything, I'd been hearing far too much for weeks now. Too much. It was all too much; the freakishly advanced heightening of my senses had me hurling my guts onto the already soggy lawn more often than I'd ever admit. And there'd been nobody to talk to, no ears willing to listen. Sweat and tears burned behind my skull, and, for the first time in my life, there was no Embry, and there was certainly no Jacob.

Embry had left, I reminded myself, embracing the bitter taste of blood and bile on my tongue. Abandoned his brothers like his father did him. The real kicker was that Jacob had chosen the traitor over me like the coward he was. Yeah, so much for brothers, you gigantic, selfish pricks.

Between the seething and the sweating and the crying out for mercy, I could have sworn I heard the howling of a wolf.

Maybe I'd get lucky, and it'd eat me alive.

But even poor luck was luck nonetheless, and it was the only kind I found under the moonlight. Several feet away, gawking down at me like it was his pain he saw, stood Jacob. Side by side and nearly identical in attire to Sam fucking Uley and his band of addicts. His hair had been hacked off, and he bore a tattoo just like the rest of those low-lifes. Muscles rippled beneath their every surface, defined and thick, like chords of steel. Embry couldn't even be bothered to show up and kick my ass with his new friends, I wanted to scoff. But Jacob was taking a step forwards, his glistening gaze filled with pity, and I felt all the fight in me shift. Suddenly, I wasn't fighting this cruel trick of my body, or the heat nipping at my throat. I was fighting him, going for his throat, hunting to kill.

**Power**. Inexhaustible, remarkable, vigorous strength, coursing deeper than the wiry cables of my newfound muscles. I was both falling and flying with it's icy vengeance beneath me. I ballooned up from the helpless boy at the mercy of several despicable men, landing steady and surely on four large paws. I had grown tall, and strong, and I was no longer a man.

_'Yes,'_ cried the animal. ' _More_.'

I surrendered all that I had to the beast, pouring my cowering flesh behind his thick skin, and masking my presence in the shaggy fur at his breast. I didn't need to see the carnage that would follow, I only needed to trust the Wolf while he crooned in my ear. He was pleased with me, and he licked at my ears as though to say;

' _You are Pack. I will guard you with my life. Rest, child. Let me take care of it.'_

As he lunged in my stead for the throat of a boy I'd grown to love like a brother, I turned a blind eye. He'd wronged me, and therefore also had he scorned the beast. The Wolf would never leave me, we were one now. Jacob was not pack, he was other, and I had no right to defend him. To hell with them all, let the wolf tear them from their bones and pick them clean.


	12. Brotherhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very grateful for all the reviews and likes, even if I don't respond to them. Call me shy, because I just never know what to say. But I'm tickled pink, honestly I am!
> 
> Anyway, here's some of our sunshine boys. I don't own anything except this dramatic little take I've spun here. All credits to Smeyer, even if she did us dirty with how she treated these babies lol *heart eyes here*

_**JACOB BLACK** _

"Jacob do this, Jacob bring me that," I grumbled mockingly. I made a spectacle of pounding each foot into the dingy old carpet that covered the stairs on my way up. "Here's a neat idea, why don't you do something for a change."

Rachel always treated me like I was her personal servant, commanding me around like she was the queen of the house. Well I was fed up. Being the youngest, however, I didn't have much say in the matter. Even mom and dad turned their eyes blindly. Families help each other, they'd say, cooing on about how she loved me, and appreciated everything I did for her. There was a whole spiel about how lucky my sisters were to have such a helpful little brother. I could recite it by heart, but I wouldn't exactly say the same in return.

"Wait up, Jake!"

Quil Ateara bounded up the stairs behind me, leaping from step to step like an excited puppy. I pictured him with a wagging tail, and a huge sloppy tongue flopping over the edges of his big mouth. His worn red shirt was as caked with grime like it usually was, and covered in stains. But it was still his favorite one, and he wore it as often as his mother would let him. Quil was built from a myriad of disproportionate attributes, where everything seemed to grow at their own rate. While he had wide hands, they were fixed at the end of long, thin arms. His head was much too large for such a wispy frame, with lashes too long for the slanted eyes they shielded. I thought he resembled some sort of bobble head with that goofy grin always plastered over his full lips. We didn't really get along. Or rather, I couldn't stand him and he didn't care, determined to hang around my little red cottage as often as he saw fit. Quil never seemed to notice the offhand remarks I made at his expense, and if he did, he was just too stupid to put the pieces together. On top of sharing a grandfather, our dads were best friends, and so they always lumped the pair of us together as though it made us best friends as well. We were cousins, and I loved him fiercely, but that didn't mean I liked him one bit. I waited impatiently for whatever dumb suggestion he was sure to offer.

"Whatcha doin?" He grinned, mischief and questionable intentions scribbled over his wily face.

I gawked back at him, knowing full well he'd heard my sister's request. He blinked back, and, with a frustrated sigh, I replied. I'd never get rid of him otherwise, and maybe not even then.

"Just grabbing a hairbrush and some ties for Rach."

"Oh, cool." But it wasn't, really. "I'll come with you," he sung, wandering ahead before I could protest.

"Cool," I repeated dryly.

He sauntered towards the twin's shared bedroom, pushing open the door with absolutely no respect of their privacy. I raced in behind him, but by the time I made it in the door, he was already rifling through their stuff like a bandit. I rolled my eyes, but proceeded to search through the chaos of the room for the desired items. The knowledge that they were not at all where they were expected to be came with the intense urge to rip my hair from my scalp. Maybe if they cleaned their room I'd have an easier time finding their stuff for them. Better yet, they might learn to get things for themselves instead of always making me do it. I muttered a few words I sure hoped mom wouldn't hear beneath my breath as I trudged back to the edge of the staircase.

"IT'S NOT THERE," I called down at the top of my lungs. A long silence passed before she yelled back.

"Check the bathroom."

I rolled my eyes, but dutifully did as her Royal pain in the butt demanded. At a glance, I spotted it on the sink, dripping wet and filled with long dark strands of forgotten hair. Ew. No way was I touching that. I scooped up a few hair ties, and called down for her to catch them, watching with devious amusement as she scrambled over where they scattered. The glare she fixed at me was almost worth the labor.

"Couldn't find the brush," I shrugged.

She breathed out an annoyed gust of air. "Whatever, I'll come look for it myself."

The youngest of the twins turned brightly on her heels, making her way back to the cluster of girls locked in a hair braiding train on the living room rug. I could hear her muffled voice explaining to them, and remembered Quil, who was still in her room. What was that idiot doing anyway? As I rounded the corner into the doorway, my limbs seemed to lock in place. It was then that I remembered the very first thing I'd ever learned about Quil Ateara; never let the bugger out of your sight, not even for a second. Panic seeped into my bloodstream and a flush crept over my neck. Quil beamed back, holding up his find as though he'd reeled in a halibut too magnificent to have been caught in the reservations river. But in his slimy little fingers was definitely no fish, and certainly not a sight I'd ever be able to un-burn from my mind. Unfortunately, Rachel chose that moment to burst into the room, and I knew he'd never make it out of the house fast enough, much less alive. It only took a second for her to spot the piece of cloth dangling from his index finger, bright blue with chocolate chip cookies all over it. Her eyes slid down to the open top drawer on the dresser, her underwear drawer, and her brown eyes bugged right out of her head.

"Oh. My. GOD!" She squealed. She lunged for him, but he was smaller, faster, more determined. "Drop it you little pervert!"

Quil flew between her body and the wall, slipping just out of reach. "Lookie lookie, I found a cookie," he chanted.

He giggled a maniacal little laugh, before tossing the thing my way. To my eternal mortification, I felt traitorous hands reaching to pluck them from the air on reflex.

"Oh god. Oh god..oh godohgod!" My sister's underpants were in my hands. Nothing could be more horrible than that.

My body was torn between hurling my guts there in the hall and withering away into nothing. I was going to drop it, - seven years old was way too young to die, I decided - but then there was a very furious girl stampeding my way, and again my muscles reacted faster than my brain. So I threw it back. It soared over her head and landed in the other boy's eager grasp. Rachel roared her outrage, cursing me out against her better judgement, and Quil booked it out the door with her underwear. She chased after him, nearly grabbing his flailing limbs on several accounts, but always seemed to be just a second too slow. Quil was fast, evasive to the extreme despite his obvious lack of self-preservation.

He'd miraculously made it down the stairs without so much as a scratch. I watched the scene play out from the lowest step, careful to remain out of reach. The only thing standing between him and his inevitable death was a circle of slack-jawed prepubescent girls, their hair braided at the top but still unruly and unfinished at the ends. Several sets of eyes danced between the two and nobody breathed. As Rachel stalked to the left, he prowled right, flashing a fresh gummy gap from where he'd recently lost another of his baby teeth. He may be lacking in childish chompers, but he still had a long way to go before anyone would call him mature. It's probably why his adult teeth hadn't come in yet. Quil smugly twirled the pair around his fingertips, causing Rachel's voice to drop low, her tone seething and dangerous.

"Give. It. Back," she warned.

"Why, are they your favorite?" He challenged her, waggling his brows and digging his grave deeper than ever. "Do you wear them often?"

"I'll kill you like the bug you are Quil Ateara, so help me god."

"You have to catch me first," he teased.

She flung through the circle, and he turned, but she clipped the edge of his beloved t-shirt and yanked. Hard.

"Careful what you wish for, twerp," she said as their bodies tumbled to the floor. The rolled about in a messy, wriggling heap, and he screamed. It was higher in pitch than nails on a chalkboard, and the cluster of adults came scrambling in from the kitchen. Surprise halted them in their hasty tracks as they struggled, and failed, to comprehend the wild scene playing out before them.

"You scream like a girl, Ateara," laughed Leah Clearwater.

It set the rest of the girls into a giggling frenzy, and they began to egg Rachel on as she wrestled the younger boy on the rug. She straddled his back, effectively pinning him to the floor, and unleashed her worst upon him.

"Yeah, and he fights like one too," spat Rachel, as she pummeled the boy beneath her. It was clear that he was at a severe disadvantage, and one of his tiny arms curled over the back of his head in a weak attempt to protect himself from the flying fists. The other was tucked safely under his chest, still clutching the cookie panties for dear life.

"Get off of me, you cow," he called out, the words muffled by the carpet. Shocked gasps rung out in a unanimous, harmonized chorus. If steam could come out of Rachel's ears, I'm pretty sure it would have.

"I am NOT a cow!" She shrieked.

Either to prove her point, or just to shut him up, she dropped all of her weight down. Her thighs squeezed the life out of Quil, and his face pinked as he fought to breathe. He tapped fruitlessly at her legs, bucking and thrashing to escape her death grip. Finally, by the grace of whatever spirits were watching out for the foolish boy, his fingers tangled into her long hair. He wrapped it around his hand and pulled, launching her from her vantage point and onto the floor beside him. Surprise glittered his features for half a second before sense kicked in and he scurried yet again out of reach. Rachel jumped up, angrier than ever, and ran after him with deadly intent. As they sprinted past the kitchen doorway, two firm hands snatched the pair back by the scruff of their shirts. It was all over now, I thought.

"What is going on in here," Billy chastised, releasing his grip.

Two mouths opened at once, their voices spilling over each other in an incompressible gush of panic. They both fumbled to get in their sides of the story, until my father held up his hands. Silence washed over the room once more as he fixed them each with.. _the look_. It was a mastered art, passed down to each Chief of the tribe from the ominous Elders. It was a look so engulfing and nerve-wracking that you had no choice but to behave, and tell them all of your secrets. He scanned over the room with that withering gaze, before finally settling it on me. Crap. His brown eyes met my own, but they were the eyes of the Chief and not my father. I gulped as he beckoned me forwards with an expectant raising of his brow. Of course I was the one to be caught in the crossfire.

"Yes sir," I nearly whispered, stepping down from the last stair towards him, into the line of fire. I looked over at Quil, who's lip had begun to quiver, and who's face held a sorrowful resignation. My intentions had been to see him punished for putting me in this position in the first place, but something in his eyes held my tongue. I knew he would accept whatever grueling punishment, for there was sure to be one, without complaint. His expression was one I'd never before seen on his face, and it surprised me. I recognized regret, clear as the moon in a midnight sky, and shame. But above all there was fear. I'd never known Quil to be afraid, and I immediately felt pity for him. He knew that nobody would be on his side; they never were. But for all the times I'd sneered him off, not once had he turned me in to my parents. It never got him down. He took it in silent, resilient stride, and tried again each day we were forced into each other's lives to make the most of it. To make an honest friendship out of nothing. I thought back over the whole debacle, how we had ended up here in the first place, and a decision was made. I would be on his side, even if I had to bend the story a bit to my father. Words flew from my mouth in an uneasy rush.

"Rachel made us go look for her brush and hair ties for her, instead of doing it herself. And we couldn't find them so I told him to look for the ties while I checked the bathroom and he thought I said.. something else. Quil found her panties and was going to put them back. She came up though and she started yelling and chasing him around before he could." I stopped only when breathing became necessary, squeezing in air like I'd never tasted it before.

"That's not-" Rachel began to protest, but was silenced. Billy's eyes turned on a wide-eyed Quil, who bore a look of utter disbelief.

"Is this true?" the chief asked dubiously, searching the tiny face for even a hint of lie. But Quil nodded in earnest, and I was relieved that he had enough wits to play along.

"You little liars!" Rachel dove for Quil, but her foot caught on the dip in the floorboards and she fell flat on her face.

I laughed, earning myself a disapproving 'tsk' from my mother, but Quil bent to help her up. That was a power move if I ever saw one, and was sure to aid our argument. She pushed him off roughly, rising on her own with indigence and wounded pride. To my surprise, and major relief, nobody was punished. Sincere apologies were dealt like cards, and the offending fabric returned to it's rightful owner to be stashed away in its proper place. Then Quil and I were sent outdoors with a stern warning to behave ourselves, and the girls were bribed into the kitchen to help my mother with her baking. Rachel nearly died when she found out what they were making, and Quil had sat on the couch eating the fresh chocolate chip cookies with an exceptionally sly grin. He hadn't said much after that. Afterwards, we walked along the path towards the river, one we'd travelled together more times than I could count. But this time, I wasn't rushing ahead of him, or trying to discourage his presence with mean jabs under joking pretense. He fell into step at my side, and I drank in his thoughtful, faraway gaze.

"Why did you save my ass in there?" He wondered, finally breaking the quiet evening air. His tone was dry, lacking the usual vibrant flavor that I'd come to associate with Quil Ateara V.

"Cuz we're friends," I shrugged, embarrassed for some reason.

He shook his shaggy head of hair in frustration. "You don't even like me, Black. I'm not stupid, I know you haven't wanted me around all these years."

He had noticed after all.

"If I weren't your cousin, you'd probably never let me in your house. Yenno, if you had a say in it." We both snorted at the last bit.

"I'm sorry I'm always kind of a jerk to you," I admitted. Guilt turned my cheeks a rosy red, and I could have sworn I saw him grin, just a little.

"Kind of my ass Jacob, you're really mean man. My feelings are pretty sore from all the beatings you give them."

For a short moment I was inclined to feel bad, until I realized that he was absolutely messing with me. The kid was actually pretty funny sometimes.

"Thanks for having my back," he whispered. I almost wasn't sure that I'd heard it, but I nodded. A fond smirk ghosted over my lips, parting the tension. He matched it with a bright smile of his own.

Neither really sure what to say, we just walked. An array of hidden birds chirped in the rustling trees, and the synchronized patting of our footfalls spoke more than words ever could. It was a comfortable comradery. A thought prickled at the back of my skull.

"Hey Quil?" I smirked, and he cast a sidelong glance my way. "You know Rach is your cousin, right?"

He stopped walking, and his tanned skin took on a greenish hue. I hadn't realized he could look so pale.

"We're never talking about this again," he winced. Then, either from embarrassment or excitement, he took off down the path. "Race ya to the river," he called over his shoulder.

For the first time in my life I followed him, willingly, with rich laughter bubbling from my chest in tidal waves.

...

I wasn't even sure what the joke was anymore, I only knew that my gut was bursting and my vocal chords would be sore for days. Still, the howling laughter cascaded abundantly from our lips. Embry was rolling about the floor with his eyes squeezed tight. Quil had his mouth hanging open as though to finish his dramatic re-enaction, but the words were lost in a fit of giggles. One foot stood on top of the spare mattress that had been placed on my bedroom floor, with his knee bent to prop the other foot on my bed. He had a t-shirt tied around his neck like a cape, and held a staff we'd made by jamming toilet paper rolls together.

"As King of you idiots," he bellowed valiantly. "I hereby declare tha-"

But we never got to hear his decree. The rough pounding on the front door, followed immediately by the chime of the bell cut his announcement short. The boys looked to me, confused, and I shrugged. I had no idea who it might be at such a late hour. Three sets of ears perked, listening carefully for the sound of Rebecca's feet treading the stairs. My dad, who has spent all day on the lake, hadn't made it back yet from the Clearwater's, where they were undoubtedly cleaning, scaling, and filleting an ungodly amount of fish. Mom was out with her cousins for the day, doing whatever it was that women do, and Rachel was spending the night with Leah. That left poor Rebecca in charge of the three Stooges. The door creaked loudly as she swung it open. Deep and unfamiliar voices flooded the entrance. At the formality of their tone, unease welled in my still aching stomach. I crept to the edge of the staircase and peered down. Two men in police uniforms stood stiffly in the doorway. One caught my eye with his hardened glare, and he swallowed thickly before averting his gaze back to my sister.

"I'm officer Brooks, and this is Officer Haggard," he said. I noticed how his voice trembled ever so slightly. "Is there a parent or guardian around we could speak to?"

"They left me in charge," Rebecca chirped confidently. "Is there a problem?"

"I think it would be best if you called an adult home," he insisted.

Rebecca nodded. She shifted on her feet to silently encourage them to step inside, and they tiptoed through the living room. Something about their nervous nature rung off warning bells in my mind, but I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because they were from the Forks police unit, and they didn't usually come to the reservation. Or perhaps it was just the sight of strangers, workers of the law no less, sitting in our living room. As Rebecca dialed in the number for the Clearwater's home, I stumbled back up to my bedroom and closed the door.

"Who was it," Embry urged half-heartedly. I pressed my back into the wood, feeling dizzy.

"Cops," I replied. My voice felt tense, unfamiliar in my own ears. Quil's eyes lit up with curiosity.

"Seriously? What do they want?"

I bit out a reply through tightly clenched teeth. "Not sure. Becca's calling my dad though."

A heaviness settled over the three of us, and we moved our gathering to the staircase. We sat staggered on the higher steps, staring into the lion's den as we waited for the sound of the truck rumbling up the driveway. Ages past in tense succession, the cops sipping nervously at the water offered to them and avoiding our young eyes. It was clear that something was gravely wrong. What it was, however, remained a tight-lipped mystery. Finally, my dad's sturdy footsteps knocked against the wood of the deck, and the door swung open. I felt relieved that he was here, as though his presence alone was shelter enough from the onslaught of intrusive thoughts riddling my terrified mind.

Dull pleasantries were exchanged. Then men all shook hands, and the kids were sent begrudgingly upstairs. Out of sight, but not quite out of earshot, the four of us huddled together with craned necks. We inched as close as we could, silent and stealthy, so as to hear what was said.

"There's ... -n accident... -the road leading... You're wife, she was... -didn't make it."

I could pick out that my mom was a factor, but aside from that, it all sounded like nonsense to me. I cast a glance towards Quil, seeing the same befuddled expression as I had. But Embry's entire body had tensed and his gaze drilled holes in the floorboards. Rebecca's tanned skin took on a sickly, sallow hue, and I knew it was bad.

"What is it?" I whispered. Tears prickled at her eyes in huge, fat drops. She refused to let them slip down her cheeks.

My sister smiled at me, but I knew it was forced. She shook her at me, almost defiantly, and moved towards the stairwell.

"It's going to be okay, Jake, I promise," she cooed. "They're going to find her, and then they'll realize that it's all just a big mistake."

Embry eyed her helplessly, pitifully. I didn't understand. Find who? Find her where? Nobody was making any sense. She whispered to herself before she stomped down into the living room. "She's fine. Mom's totally fine."

"Rebecca," cried my father. His voice broke, almost like he was crying, but I didn't know why that could be. Rebecca said everything was just fine. So why didn't it feel that way?

"Honey, please go back upstairs."

She ignored him entirely, setting her sights sharply at the officers. "Why would you say that," she demanded.

I heard the cop, Officer Brooks I thought, stutter an apology to my father. As I tumbled down after her, despite Embry pleading with me not to, I saw my dad wrap his arms around Rebecca.

"Relax, kiddo. Breathe," he hushed. Her whole body was trembling violently, and it took me a moment to see that she was crying. She pushed his arms off her shoulders, whirling back towards the men in uniform.

"No. Daddy, they're lying!"

The officer's eyes danced over everything in the room except the somber pair before them. It was like they were giving as much privacy as they could in the small space, like whatever they were witnessing was a private affair. Dad hugged her tightly to his chest again, and this time she let him.

"No, baby. She's gone," he whispered softly into her hair.

Acid lapped at the back of my tongue. I wanted to run, but my feet were bolted and soldered to the floor. There was a pounding, in my head I realized, like I was standing dead center in a drum circle. There was no air left in the room, but I fought to pull in air anyways. Rachel's sobbing voice was faraway, hollow, unrecognizable.

"They made a mistake," she whimpered, crashing down into the arms around her. "It's someone else. It has to be somebody else."

**Dead**.

The unwelcome visitors lifted from their perch on the worn couch. Did they notice that the house smelled of cinnamon and tea? Could they smell her warming aroma over the pungent trickling of wood smoke from the stove? I frowned, because there was no reason they could. It was all just a blanket in the background to them. But they stood, rocking uncomfortably as they sought for the words to say. But someone was dead, and there was little more explanation needed.

As their presence swept swiftly to the door, Officer Haggard blinked blankly at my father.

"Everything will be ready for you at the hospital when you want to make the.. arrangements."

What was there to arrange? Had I misunderstood, like Rebecca had said?

"You're welcome anytime you want to see the bod-.." he cut himself off, but not in time. Not before the damage could be done. "Her. If you want to see her."

Dad nodded, but I wasn't sure if he had heard a word of it. They closed the door on their way out, or maybe somebody closed it later. I wasn't sure. I couldn't remember. I didn't care. It was when that shiny cruiser disappeared down the drive, their lights silent as the night sky, that my bindings broke. I bolted through the door, and out of the house. The fresh air tasted of salt and trees sliced at my skin as I tumbled through the woods. I was running blindly, just needing to get away. Away from the house that smelled of her, and the memories of this town. Away from the news and the memories and the people I was leaving behind that would never understand. Away from the people who already did.

**Dead. My mother was dead.**

...

An invisible boulder dropped down on my chest. I fought to pull in each breath as the grass beneath me began to sway. Agony and unbearable heat poured out from the boy at my feet, a geyser of flame and rage and betrayal. His body was unrecognizable, in the same way mine was. He was too big, too handsome, too superhuman. The boy should be lanky, and he should be grinning his goofy clown smile. But his features were far from amused. They had been contorted into a twisted mirage of hostility towards me and the men at my side. He was fighting; clawing at the sides of the pit dug out for him by his ancestors, wrestling with himself not to let the beast out. He was battling his own bloodstream. He no way to know that if he'd just let go, his torture would end. That he would finally understand his heritage, and the sacred histories few of us ever heard. He'd know why I had abandoned him, and that he didn't need to be afraid. So I did what I'd done that first time, so long ago. A lifetime ago.

I stepped over the high wall between us and into the line of fire.

The moment his eyes sought out my own, I saw the flip happen. He wasn't fighting with the boy he was, or the thing he was becoming. Suddenly, he was battling the friend who hadn't been on his side like he'd promised to always be. I wasn't the brother that had his back, or his cousin. I was the enemy, a target, prey. His tanned skin erupted into caramel fur, darker than my own wolf's, with a faint white glow around his eyes and snout and legs. The overtaking didn't stop with his phase, however, and I swallowed my soul as he gave way to the creature entirely. To my horror, all shreds of Quil were swallowed down by the animal. He willingly shrunk back, turning his back and a blind eye on me by giving it express permission to do whatsoever his wolf decided I deserved. There would be no mercy, because there was no Man. I shuddered into the flesh of my own wolf, warning him to hold back just enough that I might draw Quil out before there was significant damage. I called for him through the pack mind, which was eerily silent, and I doubted even an Alpha's order would reach him.

The chocolate coloured Wolf dove into the air, his paws pressing into my russet shoulders. I let him topple me back, using the momentum to roll over and kick him into the air with my hind legs. He whimpered as he landed, but didn't back down. He lunged for me again, getting the feel for his new lupine form, and snapped his powerful jaws for my throat. I was faster, pinning him with my razor teeth against the back of his neck. I tested my grip, squeezing, and he growled. One of his back paws came up from the dirt to kick at my snout, dislodging me from my position over him. He whirled, sinking first his claws, then his teeth deep into my shoulder. I spun from his grip, using my weight to knock him to the dust yet again. This went on for hours, but he didn't relent, and I had to remind myself several times that he wasn't the enemy. I put weeks worth of restraint to the test, suffocating the primal urge to tear him to pieces for daring to wage this war. Eventually, thoughts trickled through the link as he grew tired, but they were still feral.

_'Fuck, Quil, cut it out,'_ I groaned, irritated at the wounds littering my body. He snarled in response, but I could have sworn I detected a growing sliver of humanity.

Paul's tone was every bit as annoyed as I felt. 'J _ust tear him a new one already, that'll wake him up.'_

The rest of the pack had tried multiple times to intervene, but Quil always slipped through their barriers with effortless fluidity. He was liquid in their grip, in a way none of us could boast to. No wolf with practice was even half as cunning and evasive as Quil was naturally. Even if I could simply overpower him at his most primal, I refused to play my hand. He was my best friend, and, although our falling-out had been unavoidable, he was at least owed a fair chance to take me on.

_'No,'_ I stated firmly.

To my chagrin, even Sam seemed ready to toss in the towel. They were weary of the waiting game. I watched as the debate played through his mind, uncertain over which path was the best to take for the greater good. There was only so long he could allow this to keep up, as it was always a gamble on how much time it would take for a new pup to regain their skin.

' _No_ ,' I repeated, leaving no room for argument.

Quil lunged for me again, springing higher into the air this time. His underbelly hit my back, knocking me off-balance. I rolled from underneath him, but he pounced , pinning me with his weight and his paws. I perked my ears dominantly while I awaited his next move. Surprisingly, it didn't come. I watched his ears slick down, and felt his knees begin to bend despite his advantage. The Wolf was submitting, cowering away from my superior scent. In a show of affection, I lapped my tongue over his nose. He flinched back, making a noise that held a striking resemblance to the boy inside the animal.

_'Did it seriously just lick my nose?_ '

The familiarity in the voice sent me rocketing to my feet, pushing the smaller bundle of fur off with ease. I bounced around him playfully, unable to reign in my excitement.

_'Quil, can you hear me?'_ I laughed.

He turned his head side to side, searching for the source. ' _Jake_?'

Both Jared and I let out a triumphant yip, and Sam chuckled. Quil's coffee coloured eyes narrowed on me. He scrutinized me warily, noting the resemblance between me and my wolf, and his thoughts turned quickly to disbelief.

' _That's impossible_ ,' he murmured. I wagged my tail, automatically flashing him images from our tussle. He seemed bewildered, noticing for the first time that he was on four legs. I watched as he backed up frantically, as though he could escape his paws by stepping far enough from them. _'What in the motherfucking hell?!'_

Sam's black form inched forwards carefully. ' _It's okay Quil,'_ he urged.

' _Okay_? _I think I'm a fucking dog right now! Who are you? How is any of this okay?'_

' _Cool it, Ateara_ ,' Paul laughed, slipped down to the grass and resting his head lazily on his paws.

Sam showed rather than told Quil about the legends. He remembered them, we all did, and it hit him like a brick wall. He shivered slightly before collapsing silently to the dirt. His gaze fell further than the invisible horizon, devoid of thought as he struggled to process. It was a lot, and so he was failing miserably.

' _This is a dream,'_ Quil decided, firm in his reasoning. ' _People don't turn into wolves, those are just stories.'_

_'Yeah, well we do,'_ said Jared, his tone as stale as his mood.

Sam spent the next hour or so explaining the ins and outs of wolfhood, while the rest of us just hung around for moral support. Each of us took our turn phasing before him by way of introduction, getting him used to the idea of placing a muzzle to the voices he suddenly found thinking within his head. We tried to explain the shift to him, and how to fall back into his human form, but nothing seemed to be working. Finally, an exasperated Jared unwittingly offered a new suggestion.

_'How come Embry gets out of pup duty_ ,' he whined.

A moment of silence followed as Sam stewed over the words. Quil must have harbored an anger that was too great to allow him to shift, even if it was just in the background.

_'That just might work,' I_ mumbled, more to myself than any of them. Sam nodded, thinking deeply as well.

Embry had been all but forgotten in the chaos of the night, but perhaps if the two made amends Quil would be able to find his flesh again. Sam flicked his eyes in my direction. I nodded, already backing towards Bella's house in search of the one boy who might be able to draw the human out from the newest member of the pack.

...

It took Embry less than ten minutes to coax Quil out of his wolf form. He apologized, swearing on his life that he'd fought the Alpha's order with all he had in him to spill the secret to his best friends. It was accepted without question, but Embry went so far as to replay the day he'd inadvertently tried to trick his wolf by writing a letter and 'accidentally' throwing it in the mailbox. He had failed of course, but the attempt was enough to satisfy the new wolf. Embry led him straight to Emily's, the rest of the pack silently in tow. The hearty aroma of a home-cooked meal was enough to bring us to our furry knees, and upon being told that he could not go inside as a wolf, Quil had found the will to be the Man again. They offered a brief explanation of Emily's scars, reminding him not to stare. Sam promised to lend him a pair of shorts, and he and Jared hurried inside ravenously, hot on Quil's heels. That left just Paul, Embry and myself on the enclosed lawn. Embry had really kept his cool while handling Quil, who wasn't experienced enough to grasp his animal cues just yet. But his irritation had been potent to the rest of us. The slight twitching of his otherwise stiff tail was the first sign, followed closely by the dull hum of his carefully concealed thoughts.

His sharp gaze fell first on Paul, replaying his time with Bella. It was mostly cleaning, with a few moments of lighthearted chatter once she woke up. I could practically feel the relief and adoration pouring from Paul, and it was sickening. Not because I loathed the pairing; I wanted Bella to be happy. But because he'd never so much as given a single shit about her before, and now he was completely awestruck. It felt thoroughly unnatural to me, and I couldn't comprehend it. But all of that was pushed aside as Embry focused on me. He had a glint in his eye, one that reminded me of.. _that look_. It was his own brand of the mastered art, an expression that had been passed down from tribal elders to each Chief. It was every bit as engulfing and nerve-wracking as my father's was, to the extent that I had no choice but to behave, and tell all my secrets should he ask for them.

_'I know that you guys were busy_ ,' he began, his tone even. 'But I saw it play out, and one of you could have clued me in.'

Shit. He was right, of course. Quil's initiation had dragged on far longer than any of ours, and kn top of that, he was Embry's best friend too. We should have considered his worry, and anticipated that he would want to know why his best friend had been triggered so early. But until we had needed him, nobody so much as thought to explain what was taking so long. My shoulders dipped low, ashamed.

_'I'm sorry, Em. We'll be better next time, we just got lost in the moment of it_.'

It wasn't an excuse so much as it was an explanation, and he seemed to accept it with poise.

' _Okay_ ,' he said, nodding. Embry hesitated for a moment more. _'You think he's gonna be okay?_ '

I smirked as I remembered the resiliently silly nature of Quil Ateara V. Embry smiled softly too.

' _Yeah, he's going to be okay. Once the shock wears off, our Quilly's going to be good as new.'_

Paul barked a laugh at the nickname, already compiling a healthy handful of comebacks. Just then, Quil ambled outside sporting his first pair of cut-off shorts. He lifted his hands to his mouth, cupping his lips to create a makeshift megaphone.

"EMILY SAYS TO COME AND EAT."

The three of us flinched back. His booming voice reverberated through our superhuman eardrums in a shocking explosion. It seemed to rattle our spines as it echoed over the moonlit arena. We shifted out of our wolves, standing butt naked in Emily Young's yard and covered our bleeding ears.

Paul scowled at the grinning boy on the deck. "Shit, kid. No need to yell, we have super ears remember?"

"Oh I know," replied Quil. "It was just a little payback for you all being dick's this last few weeks."

"You're so dead, Ateara."

Embry launched himself over the rapidly decreasing distance, catching Quil seconds before he could dart back into the safety of the house. The two toppled to the wooden boards of the deck in a tangled mess, and Quil shrieked. This life suited him, maybe more than it did the rest of us. I stepped over the wrestling pair fondly, shaking my head at the familiarity of it all. Everything in this moment was perfectly as it should be, and I basked in its warm glow.

"Damn," Paul groaned mockingly, toeing over them. "I was hoping he'd at least get in a few jokes before anyone killed him."

"You think you want him dead now, wait till you hear his impressions."

"Dear God."


	13. Merging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long to post. Admittedly, I got stuck. Thankfully there were some lovelies who reviewed this like crazy on one of the other sites I posted this to, and I found my flare again. At least I hope. Feel free to share your loves and hates and hopes with me, it really does keep me going.
> 
> Anyway, back to the (hopefully!) Goods. I humbly present to you chapter Thirteen.

_** BELLA SWAN ** _

As the days passed my time spent with the Wolves of La Push increased. So did the strength in my legs; painfully small bursts of motion blended together to form longer, more effective stretches. Wary inching became bold hobbling, which turned into walking very slowly with the help of a crutch or two. I ditched the granny walker without so much as a glance back. Good riddance. I traded it in for whichever strong werewolf arm was offered my way, my own personal heated support beams, on the promise to take each step carefully. Charlie was unaware of just how keen the reflexes were that now guarded me from the everyday slips and falls.

With my mobility back up to a reasonable rate, I was left with a tiny chunk of summer holidays free to pleasure. I was determined to squeeze every ounce of enjoyment out from those days before school came about and I'd be back in a classroom. While it had been a considerable perk to have been given a free ride at the end of my junior year, especially in the case of mandatory P.E., I was kind of looking forward to actually doing the work myself. That didn't mean that I was necessarily excited for more sitting after weeks spent doing just that, but seeing my friends and stretching my mind would be nice. Only one more year and I'd never need to subject my lower back to the dinky plastic chairs of Forks high school ever again.

Senior year, I whistled to myself. Where did the days go?

But I knew the answer, and it was sealed in the pleasant package of six rambunctious, overgrown man-boys. Time with the guys seemed to pass in convoluted serpentine. Moments would zigzag between dragging on and speeding by without any relative or discernible pattern. Jared and Sam kept their distance for the most part, but not maliciously so. They were older, and Victoria's constant testing of the line kept them plenty busy. Plus, they hadn't had all that much reason to stop by in the first place, and so, most often, they didn't. Jacob came around as much as he could, but his mind was usually faraway. Quil had dropped in multiple times on his own to sneak a plate of whatever meal Emily, whom I had yet to formally meet, arranged to be dropped off. When the food quit coming, he still came sometimes, but only ever with Jacob or Embry.

Embry came over a lot. We found a generous amount of shared interests, hidden behind endless loads of easy conversation. Before I was able to physically lend a hand, he had taken to cleaning the house from top to bottom at his own whim. At first I'd been embarrassed, and pleaded with him not to subject himself to such atrocities. I tried to assure him that I wouldn't mind tackling the building sheets of grime as soon as my body allowed. He always waved off my concerns. It was only after a healthy amount of prodding on my part that Embry, rather sheepishly, admitted to being a stress cleaner. I'd teased him a little, but I understood. He wasn't terribly surprised to find out that I was the same way. Grime talks, he said, and ours spoke of an avid cleaner.

From there the floodgates were sprung wide. Previously unknown but shared tidbits rushed through, - our scatter-brained mother's, the way his pack mind was sometimes as silent as mine was to Edward, the way we could only eat waffles after 10am, otherwise it just felt wrong - and I found myself completely enthralled by how similar the two of us really were. He wasn't like most sixteen year old boys were. None of the pack was.

Afternoon cleaning quickly coupled with a hearty helping of home-cooked lunches when I finally managed to get back to cooking. Quil's presence in my home was found suspiciously more often around that time.

Then there were movie nights. The guys took turns picking the perfect masterpiece to educate me on the wonderous world of action films after Jacob brought up the horrible one I'd dragged him and Mike to. When it was my turn to choose what we watched, I tended to drift towards a good story. I wouldn't consider them 'chick-flicks,' per say. But I was always left chuckling over how thoroughly engrossed they were during the sappy bits. They were a surprisingly soft lot for being the supposed protectors of the entire tribe. I would even swear that I caught Quil crying once, but he would never admit it.

Sitting there with the three of them like the old days, minus a hunk of scrap metal in the room, I felt guilty. They had all been just under my nose the entire time, and, aside from Jacob, I hadn't really gotten to know them. I was always too self-absorbed in my own self-destruction to smell the roses. Now it was more than Jake piecing me back together; these were my dearest friends and I couldn't imagine a life without them.

That was a dangerous thought on its own, and I tried to entertain it as little as possible and just enjoy the time with them. After all, I'd already done the whole 'getting attached' thing, and it did not end very well for me. Alice was my first real friend, but she didn't seem to have any qualms about leaving me high and dry.

Edward had been my first and only romantic relationship, and, like most things, I had failed miserably at it.

Despite my high walls, their warm, wolfy affections for me were higher. They scaled the thick barrier like it was nothing, and weaseled their way into my home as confidently as they had my heart. Their barrage of love and friendliness, matched for my already cracked resolve meant that loving them came easily. Even with the plethora of surprises. It was powerful and undeniable, and I knew I couldn't do better in a set of best friends. No matter what happened, they were always around when it counted. It was something Jacob had bragged about before, when I had asked about his mother all those months ago. They were there for each other, it's what set them apart, he'd said. And now they were here for me too. The pack friendship came with no strings attached.

Well... _Almost_ no strings.

Because there was Paul, and he was definitely a tether. More like a thick steel cable than a thread, he had a hold on me that I just couldn't shake or explain. To my horror, I could often detect his presence in the woods by the house most nights. I don't why I knew it was him, but I knew. The pack didn't mind sharing information about the imprint if I had questions, but they were all pretty tight-lipped when it came to Paul. I almost wondered if there was some sort of code shared between the boys that kept them bound from sharing anything he had not yet shared himself. Perhaps even a direct order from Sam. The only explanation for such drastic measures was that Paul Lahote had a darker history than most, and it sent a chill up my spine. I knew he was dangerous, and that he shifted accidentally more often than even Quil had in the first few weeks. Despite this, he wasn't a menacing presence, at least not to me.

I knew that he hung around in his wolf form quite often while I slept. This sensation wasn't new; Edward had made a habit of it as well, only the vampire was much more intrusive. Paul's careful distance wasn't unnerving, but it did terrify me. It wasn't him being there that scared me either. No, the awful part was that I could only seem to sleep when he _was_ there. The nights he was away, usually when he had patrol, I spent my time tossing about restlessly on my sheets. Sleep just would not come, no matter how hard I willed it to. When the bond was humming brightly and my cheeks burned hot from embarrassment, I immediately felt the adoring pull of slumber. I'd slip into a blissful, dreamless rest that fell undisturbed until the sun rose up behind the clouds. Every time I pried my eyes open, rejuvenated and smiling, I would immediately fall prey to the recurring fear that none of it was real. My head would spin as I wondered if I was insane, or if maybe it had all just been a dream. Paul was always there in the mornings. He'd throw a rock at my window to make sure I was okay, and it left me feeling warm each time.

Then I would sink right back into my embarrassment for depending on that little comfort offered from a near stranger. Curse those meddling spirits for telling me I needed to be taken care of by yet another mythical beast. And was it too much to ask for a lover who couldn't sound out all your feelings by tuning in to your heartbeat? Hadn't the first fairytale creature ruined me enough?

As if on cue, the clattering of stone against glass ricocheted around the room. A glance at the clock alerted me that it was earlier than I normally woke up, but still late enough that I could reasonably start my day. I also noticed a bright rectangle slanted between the wall and the floor across from my bedroom door. Checking the weather wasn't a habit of mine, because most often it was more than predictable; It would probably be wet. Today though was already unlike most days, and the sun was glowing hotly in a clear blue sky. The only clouds in sight were a few wispy streaks of off-white, but they were far to the south, so if they passed by anywhere, it surely wouldn't be here.

I swung my legs off the side of the bed and rose up. Too fast. Thankfully I managed to balance myself with a hand on the windowsill, grumbling out an incomprehensible string of curse words. The swearing was a new development, one carefully concealed when Charlie was around, that could be almost completely blamed upon one Quil Ateara V. Paul's sensitive ears were sure hear it.

I waited patiently for the black spots to recede before reaching the supporting hand further down the wall to flick the lock out of place. I shoved the pane upwards and out of the way, welcoming in the fresh and permanently damp air. Charlie's car was already gone. Fishing, I imagined. Sunlight kissed my pink cheeks, and I forgot for a moment that I must have looked pretty disastrous. My hair would be a jumbled mess when I braved the mirror, and I could feel a dried path of drool in the corner of my lips. The disgusting proof of how well I'd slept. Thankfully, Paul was too far to smell the surely vile morning breath emanating from my mouth. Well, I thought so, anyway.

I did my best not to scowl too much at the shirtless man beneath my tree as I called down like usual. "Hey Paul, I'm fine."

He nodded, but made no move to go anywhere. I furrowed my brow and frowned slightly, picking up the edgy tingle over the bond. Definitely not like usual. Of course, immediately I was panicking.

"What's wrong? Is someone hurt?"

"No no, it's just.." He twisted his heel sheepishly as he shook his hair, falling into his thoughts.

I breathed deeply as I allowed my nerves to settle. Everyone was fine. But something was still bothering him, and Paul didn't elaborate, so I knew I'd need to prod it out of him. He was always so shy. When my mouth formed words around a half-baked idea, I shocked even myself. I don't know what it was that prompted me to make such a gesture. I decided to blame the oddity on a clear-skied sun-kissed day.

"You want to come in?" I asked, chewing on my lower lip. I'd never invited him inside.

"Yeah, okay" he murmured in that gruff, low voice.

I paused by the bathroom to run a brush through the tangled mess on my head, which was every bit as horrifying as I'd assumed it would be. As an afterthought I quickly brushed my teeth as well. By the time I made it down the stairs Paul was already standing in the doorway, which was open wide, but he made no move to come in. Intense eyes watched my every move closely, waiting, almost hungrily. It was often easy to forget that there was an animal living inside the boys. Sometimes, though, they would growl or yip, and it would come out sounding like something straight from Animal Planet. But sometimes the reminder came in the form of a look; a wild and ravenous stare that unnerved me to my core. It was all predator, even if I wasn't necessarily the prey. That particular expression usually I got from Paul or Sam, but even Jacob had bore it once or twice. I shivered under his deep scrutiny.

My pale arm raised awkwardly to wave him through the door and he took a slow step forwards, cautious as an animal pawing its way around a snare. His hazelnut eyes drunk in the sight of me appreciatively. This was yet another feat I'd grown fairly accustomed to when it came to Paul Lahote. I was ashamed to admit how often I felt drawn in his direction. Without waiting for my consent, my eyes would dart over to him magnetically, as though they couldn't fight the urge for too long before the force of him pulled them right back. What was even more alarming was the way Paul always seemed to be gazing back, like some orchestrated dance. Like maybe he was feeling that tugging too. At first he would glance quickly away when I caught him staring back. Over time, he seemed to give up entirely on battling his own retinas, because now he always watched me with such sharp precision and clearly wasn't ashamed of it. I was not so brave.

Despite anticipating that look, it still made me blush profusely every time. In that moment, under the full weight of his attention, it occurred to me that I was still wearing my pyjamas; a simple brown t-shirt that hung loosely off my body, and a bright yellow pair of shorts. The bottoms were a gift from my mother, to remind me of the sunshine she said, and they were much shorter than I would have picked out on my own. I was much too reserved to show off so much leg in public, but they did the trick on a hot night. I regretted not changing clothes when I had the chance, but was even more mortified at the prospect of hurting Paul's feelings if I were to head back up. It might seem that I didn't want him to see me how the rest of the pack was allowed to if I came down in a cozy pair of skin concealing sweatpants. So I bucked up, hiking on my big girl panties - it was a favorite expression of Quil's - and stepped into the kitchen.

Rifling through the fully stocked fridge, I wondered what sort of food one would feed someone like Paul. None of the wolves were picky, far from it, but surely each one had their preferences. He chuckled behind me, and I turned to face him, startled.

"You do that a lot, huh?" It wasn't really a question.

I must have looked confused.

"Accidentally think out loud," he clarified from his perch in Charlie's dining chair. Oh.

"As a matter of fact," I began, a hint of petulance in my voice. "Yes I do."

I winced inwardly at my defensiveness, disregarding the lame comeback. It wasn't his fault that my mouth-to-brain filter was missing. I would definitely need to get some coffee in me if I planned on not biting his head off before I even had the food plated.

I knew I'd spoken aloud again when he grinned beneath his hand.

It wasn't a mocking one, as Jacob's would have been. This surprised me. Paul's lips instead twitched with affection. He was such a puzzle; everything I knew about him I learned through Jacob and Quil, who for the most part avoided him as much as possible. Hardly reliable sources. He was supposed to be a hotheaded jerk, who didn't give anyone the time of day unless they had delicious curves and a place for him inside their knickers. I'd tried to ask Embry for his opinion, but he only shrugged and pursed his lips as though it wasn't his place to say. From what I could tell on my own, Paul just came across as quiet, and so maybe the rambunctious and loud youths of the pack had him misunderstood entirely.

But.. I also wasn't in his head, and we had yet to have a real normal conversation. So he remained an elusive mystery.

I knew that Paul must have been paying closer attention to my mannerisms than I'd given him credit for to have picked up on them, given how little time we'd actually spent in the same vicinity. It was more flattering than I could admit. Stupid. Absolutely silly to be affected by him. I didn't even know him! Still, I wondered if he'd been noticing from afar on his own, or if he just saw it through the pack mind? How much did he really know about me? I filed them away on the long list of questions I wasn't brave enough to ask him yet.

Truthfully, I'd been somewhat avoiding Paul. The news that he was my absolute soul mate was just.. a lot. I wasn't ready for anything like that yet. I didn't know him, and so I couldn't say if I'd ever be ready for that commitment ever again. There was suddenly an immense amount of pressure to fall unconditionally in love with him, and, though he seemed nice enough, I was at a complete loss when it came to knowing what exactly I was supposed to do with an imprint. And he never pushed, so I never pulled. We were in an increasingly comfortable spiral of nothingness, and I knew I'd have to take some leaps if I were ever going to get anywhere with him. But I still had no clue where it was that I wanted us to be in terms of relationships.

"Earth to Bella," he chuckled with a knowing slant to his lips. "Anybody in there?"

I was still dazed as I mumbled a half-hearted: "Sorry."

"Eggs," he said suddenly, ripping me fully from my musings. Again, I was puzzled. Smooth Bella, way to go.

"One would feed someone like me eggs. Maybe with toast?"

The way he finished it off as a question was kind of adorable, but I was extra careful not to think that aloud. Right, breakfast. Cooking I could do, if only to distract me from the man in my kitchen. Why did I think inviting him in was a good idea anyway?

_'Focus Bella, breakfast.'_

First thing's first; coffee. I set the coffeemaker to brew and pulled a shiny mixing bowl from the cupboard. Paul was nearly forgotten as I fell into a rhythmic groove. I danced about the kitchen on feather-light feet. It was the one place in the world I could soar around a room doing multiple things at once without ever falling flat on my ass. I was comfortable in the face of the fire-breathing oven, despite its many obvious dangers.

"Any particular way you love your bacon?" I asked conversationally.

"Kind of crispy," he balked, obviously surprised to have been asked.

I nodded, pulling out a generous pile of eggs, bread, and bacon. I reached into the pantry for a few potatoes, which I cut into dice sized cubes, sprinkled some seasonings over, and popped in the oven on a baking sheet. As a last-minute thought, I also arranged the necessary ingredients for pancakes along the available sliver of counter space, and lightly greased a pan. I placed it alongside another on the stove top to pre-heat as I set about making the pancake mix. My fingers flew over the bowl, sprinkling in flour, sugar, salt, and the like, until I had a delightfully fluffy batter. After sneaking a taste to ensure it was up to par, I poured a blob in the center of the greased pan. The other I filled with bacon strips. I did it systematically, so as to optimize the space. Werewolves eat a lot, and I was sure I'd need at least an entire package to satisfy him, even with a full spread. With everything coming along, I was pulled back into the unfamiliar presence seated at the kitchen table. I leaned easily against the counter beside the stove and faced a wide-eyed Paul.

"How was the night," I asked, genuinely interested. He shrugged. "Anything out of the ordinary?"

Paul shook his head in a motion so small I almost didn't notice. If he kept on like this, please out whatever words he had held back beneath my window would be harder than I thought.

A large number of the reasons we never breached the rocky surface of our relationship - if you could even call it that- was due to Paul's silent, brooding nature. But his eyes were wide today, as though he were in absolute awe. Of what, I wasn't sure, but I flushed crimson nonetheless.

"What?" I asked.

"I- it's jus- just you're.." Paul stuttered. He drew in a ragged breath before trying again. "I've never seen you cook before."

I understood. He had expected a fumbling clumsy mess staggering around the kitchen. It was a fair assumption, and I was suddenly glad I'd taken the initiative to prepare more than just the requested eggs and toast. He had made only the simplest of orders in case I wasn't up to the task of making much more than just a measly few eggs and toast. He was about to be pleasantly surprised, I mused, flipping the last of the pancakes on the stack. I grinned slightly and shrugged as I reached over the empty elements to flip the bacon.

"My mom isn't exactly what you'd call a master chef. Someone had to feed us, or we'd have died off a long time ago." I chuckled fondly as the coffeemaker beeped twice. Done brewing. "Charlie isn't much better."

He looked to be deep in thought before his full lips parted. "So you take care of them."

Again, it wasn't a question so much as it was an observation. I nodded anyway.

"I really do love to cook though," I clarified.

He seemed to be really soaking that tidbit in as I pulled all the meat off of the pan and set it on a small plate. I cut a few slices of ham from the round and fried that too, draining the grease into the metal coffee can under the sink. I rinsed it off, careful to avoid touching anything that would burn my fingers, before reaching for the eggs.

"How do you like em," I asked before cracking them.

I knew Emily always scrambled several dozen at once for convenience, but I had the luxury of catering to only one wolf today. May as well make it a treat.

"Over easy?" Again with the adorable uncertainty.

I was positively thrilled to have something in common with him, even if it was as insignificant as how we liked our eggs. That he had put enough faith in my abilities to be honest about what he liked was only a cherry on top.

"That's how I like mine too," I smiled back.

One of his long legs bounced restlessly on the tiles. "Anything I can do to help?"

Everything was nearly finished, but I nudged my head towards the bread and butter still on the counter.

"You want to start the toast?"

He rose silently in typical Paul fashion. The moment I sensed his presence, his overwhelming heat, behind me and every nerve ending ignited. Without facing him, I let my ears track his movements. I flinched at the metallic crunching of the foil as he unwrapped the bread. I heard him lean down to take a whiff of the homemade creation, and was pleased when he sighed dreamily.

"Did you make this?" He groaned, and heat pooled between my thighs. Did he know what that sound did to me?

"Yes," I bit out through clenched teeth.

The spatula trembled in my fist as I fought to keep my breathing in check. It had been a long time since he'd come so close to me, and it played havoc on my resolve. I had no right to react this way, imprint or not. I couldn't find the courage to turn around, nor the desire to step away even as our elbows brushed together.

I could practically hear the smile in his deep timbre. "Smells amazing."

There was something provocative in his words, and it scorched at my flesh.

I wanted to bask in his woodsy scent as it flooded my senses. The pull I felt to him was magnetic, electric, and undeniable. Everything about this man was alluring. He was undiscovered territory, but I found myself wanting to explore every inch of him. It was discomforting to find that I craved his presence in the daylight every bit as much as I did when I was wrestling under the covers for sleep. Knowing that he would hear the blood pounding loud and clear, I willed my pulse to slow. Damned supernatural hearing.

He seemed to drift closer into my personal space, and I gulped down a breathe at his nearness. Thankfully, I somehow managed to prepare the eggs without a single casualty as he scraped butter over the hot bread with a delicacy that seemed out-of-place on his hulking form. A covert peek over my shoulder showed him leaning against the countertop as he waited for the last pair of crispy slices to pop up from the machine. Only I wasn't as sneaky as I'd thought, because he was staring right at me with a ghost of a grin on his smug face.

"Do I make you nervous?" He purred. Kill me now.

"No," I lied, badly. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he laughed, a deliciously throaty sound.

The toast popped up to save both the day, and whatever tiny shred of dignity I had left. Ugh, get a grip Bella. I pulled the hash browns from oven just as the timer beeped and moved back and forth through his enchanting space to scatter the assorted breakfast foods on the table. He brought the plates of toast and bacon to the table and set them down with a soft clink. He was falling back into Charlie's seat with coveted grace, while I fiddled with my hands in the center of the room. Was it weird to be nervous to sit at the dining table with someone?

I hovered a few feet from the table, focusing much too intently on my bare toes. "Would you like a drink?"

"Coffee's good." He seemed amused.

I reached for two mugs before turning to him again. "Anything in it?"

He has his elbows propped up on the table with his head flopped lazily on his palms. Something in the way he fixed me with his gaze left my mouth dry, but I tried not to let it show how much he was unintentionally affecting me. It would be silly to feel anything at all.

"Nope," he smiled, popping the ending.

Another current of excitement coursed through me as we shared yet another similarity. I poured two mugs full of steaming liquid caffeine and returned to the table. I set his down and shifted away. I wasn't exactly sure where to sit; across from him or beside him. Which one seemed less weird? It was hard to think over the thundering in my ears.

"Bella," he commanded firmly, his eyes intense. "Sit."

I immediately plopped down in the chair across from him like a puppet whose strings had been pulled. He smirked darkly, and I stared deep into his eyes. It was like he had me in a trance, and I wasn't sure how to break it. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to.

His eyes never left mine as he filled his plate with ungodly amounts of food. He quirked a condescending brow, and immediately I began to do the same. How I managed to get it all on the plate without looking was beyond me.

"Eat," he urged once my plate was full.

So I did, while Paul barely concealed his cocky grin behind his bright red mug. The piles on our plates disappeared by the forkful, and I was intrigued with the finesse he showed. Most of the pack scarfed down their food like a wild animal. But not Paul. He slowly cut each pancakes into perfectly sized bites, and chewed before he swallowed.

"Delicious," he moaned, and I basically died right then and there.

Thingsdown below were becoming.. uncomfortable. Lighting and static nipped at my spine, and I prayed to God that he was oblivious to my.. current state. Half of me suspected he was doing it on purpose, which was just as well; nobody should be that effortlessly arousing, supernatural or otherwise.

He scooped each egg over a piece of toast, and when he got to the yolk, he sopped up the yellow spillage with his bread. It wasn't exactly a dainty process, but he was using more manners than I was used to from the wolves. He finished before me, and leaned back in his chair to follow my every move. It was a relief when he yawned, his eyes closing as his mouth stretched wide. I took the chance to drop my gaze to the safety of the table.

...

_** PAUL LAHOTE ** _

Any chance to get closer to her was an opportunity too tempting for me or the Wolf to pass up. Getting a free breakfast out of it just sweetened the deal. I had sort of been aware that Bella could cook, and fairly well, but it wasn't something I'd ever seen in action. The pups didn't think about the actual preparation part so much as they did the meal itself, and so it was one of those things that you'd have to see it to believe. My wolf was extremely pleased to watch her as she danced around the kitchen. That our mate was taking care of us and enjoyed doing so was inexplicably appealing. How Sam dealt with watching Emily feed the half-dozen of us without so much as a snarl was beyond me, because just the thought of Bella feeding anyone else irritated me.

Well, okay; I'd lived in Embry's head, and maybe he was more than tolerable. But the other two were far less than chaste, and I'd have already chased the pair away if Bella didn't like them so much.

Currently though, my thoughts weren't any better than theirs. She seemed to be enjoying herself a little too much. The kitchen was practically flooded with the tantalizing scent she was throwing off in jittery, virginal waves. I doubted she got this hot and bothered every time she made a flippin' pancake, and that was a torture all in itself. It seemed that Bella was exceptionally.. _responsive_ to me. My Wolf purred his pleasure. The thought of her warm and oh so willing had us going crazy. I wanted nothing more than to be near her, unable to fight the pulling spell she had over me. Hell, I wanted her all over me, bathing me in her scent so thoroughly that it was hard to differentiate hers from my own. But I tampered down the primal urge, and quietly slathered butter over the bread she'd made as slowly as I possibly could.

I couldn't push and pursue her like I would have if she were just any old bimbo I'd picked up at the club. Bella was different, and special, and a little bit fragile. I knew she wasn't totally over the bloodsuckers, and forcing her too far too fast would surely just blow up in my face. I had to be intentional with my actions, and actually get to know her. Slowly. My Wolf rolled his eyes at that; he didn't understand the concept of romance, and he surely didn't get why the hell we couldn't just bend her over the countertops when she was already so clearly aroused.

We just.. couldn't. That was the only explanation I had for him. But that didn't mean we couldn't tease her along the way.

I pulled out my infamous panty-dropper charm, just a little. Just enough so that I had to wonder if she knew that she was shifting in her chair like that. I watched her eat without tasting a single bite, chafing her pink thighs together under the table in an unconscious effort to find any kind of friction those yellow shorts would allow.

"So.." she began, swallowing a bite of her hash browns.

My lips slanted upwards at the corners. "So."

She blinked at me once, twice, and her face was completely blank. Too blank, as though she was debating whether she could speak freely with me. Something in my face must have convinced her that she could. Either that, or she had just decided to brave it in spite of.

"It seemed like you wanted to say something earlier." Her eyes dripped down once more and speared nervous holes into her plate. "Outside, I mean."

"I was going to ask if you wanted to come to Emily's for breakfast."

All she mumbled was a quiet: "Oh."

My heart bellied at her disappointed tone, realizing that she probably assumed that she had missed her window. Bella had come to the occasional bonfire or two, but she hadn't been around much otherwise. Surprisingly, she had never even been to the pack's designated safe house, and I was curious to know if she'd ever been invited. Jacob was stupid enough to just not think to ask. But she was Pack, after all, and so Sam and Emily's unfailing welcome belonged to her too.

"You wanna go?"

Those beautiful maroon orbs shot up to mine in surprise.

"But we already ate," she stated.

I let out a low chuckle. "So?"

Bella let her head hang in shame. I hated seeing her so uncertain, but felt wrong about pushing her into a decision. Maybe she hadn't been there because she didn't want to go.

"I've never been invited," she whispered with a shrug. "I just assumed.."

She trailed off. I dipped my face into her line of sight. I hoped that she'd see the sincerity there.

"You're always welcome wherever the pack is concerned, Bella."

She gasped, and there was that delicious blush again. I loved the way it lit up her face as her hips wriggled against the seat again.

"Okay," she mumbled hesitantly. "Would you.."

It was my turn to hold my breath, not letting myself dare to dream that she'd ask me to go with her. She seemed to reconsider her sentence, rephrasing it so that it wasn't quite an invitation.

"Are you planning on running back?"

"I could," I deadpanned.

It took every fibre of self-control I had not to offer what I hoped she wanted. I'd seen how easy it was for someone to steamroll her wishes, so If I was going to go with her, she had to ask. Bella hesitated only a second before her Cupid's bow lips parted.

"You could ride in my truck with me," she offered. She was suddenly dead still, no doubt tensed for rejection.

Pfft, as if I could deny her. As if I would want to.

"If that's what you want," I pressed. She nodded, and my heart exploded. "Okay."

_Today must be my lucky day,_ I mused. So far, our interactions had been minimal at best. I knew she wasn't able to sleep unless I was in the woods nearby, and that she seemed reluctant to admit that. She'd said as much in her sleep. Besides that, everything came either from the pack mind or through casual stories told by Quil, Embry and Jacob around the dinner table. It was hard to say which of the two of us was more actively keeping our distance.

She rose from the table, nearly tumbling to her death, and set about clearing the dishes. I hated the distance immediately, but trained my gaze on her. Wearing shorts like that should be a federal crime if I was expected to be chivalrous. If she wore those things around anyone else, I'd rip their eyes out myself. Plates and cutlery and bakeware were stacked neatly beside the sink as she placed the plug over the drain and flicked on the hot water. Quil's recently montage of wet t-shirt porn was battling with my good intentions as she leaned over to reach for the soap.

_Get a grip, Paul. This is Bella Swan we're dealing with._ The Wolf huffed indignantly, resting his head on his paws in defeat.

"Can I help?" I motioned towards the drying rack. Crimson crept beneath her cheeks, but she nodded timidly.

Her heart thundered violently as I prowled closer, and my wolf sprung to his feet. We growled instinctively as she turned her back, and she flinched. Shit. But the Wolf caught a thrill at the salty tang to her saturating scent. He saw her as prey. He wanted to pounce, and sink his teeth into her neck for the unintentional show of submission. The Wolf wanted to mark her, to dominate her in every primal way, to claim his mate. But the Man was in control, and he just wanted to dry the damn dishes as a way to show his appreciation for feeding him.

"Hey," I beckoned as I came up beside her. She turned slowly. "Thank you for breakfast. It was amazing."

The answering smile stole the wind from my lungs. The sun itself paled in comparison, and I couldn't have looked away even if I wanted to.

"Anytime," she said, her tone hinting that she meant that literally.

I made a weak attempt at a smile, lost in the light behind her dark eyes.

"Don't say that too loudly," I teased. Her brow furrowed.

"You'll have every wolf from here to Canada drooling over the front steps."

She snorted a laugh, and it was somehow still such a beautiful sound, and her hands slipped into the soapy water as she washed away all evidence of our first meal together.


	14. Home Is Where The Heart Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smeyer owns this entire world, but I'm having a helluva lot of fun playing around in it!
> 
> Also, some of you requested more bonding, and I'm definitely just getting started with these two! Smeyer wasn't great at giving backstory to her characters, which is a blessing, because it inspite a lot of fics to build them from the ground up. So, here's my plot with tiny, inescapable shreds of lemon zest :P

_** BELLA SWAN ** _

Fashion had never really been my thing. Outfit coordination, or rather, any kind of coordination, just didn't click in my brain the way it seemed to naturally for most other girls. It wasn't for lack of trying; Alice and my mother had done everything in their power and then some to change that about me. But I am who I am, and I was a lost cause long before they'd even begun. That's not to say that I didn't have a particular style. The overall aesthetic had changed along with my address, and the rain and gloom of Forks, Washington meant that it now consisted of little more than a few cozy flannels, several hoodies, and my favorite jeans or khakis. It wasn't the bold statement that the women in my life pushed unwillingly down my throat. My daily attire wasn't what anyone would dub as striking or eye-catching. It wasn't even all that inviting; It just was. My closets were plain and ordinary, like me, and I hadn't really put up a fuss about it.

With that in mind, as I rummaged through said perfectly organized closet, I was shocked with the revelation that I had absolutely nothing to wear. Everything seemed too formal, or too informal, or, in the case of the few outfits sent by Renee, far too revealing. I wanted to make a good impression on the honorary Pack mom.

What would she be like? Would she like me, or had she already heard too much? I knew that she was kind, or at the very least loyal to the guys. She'd arranged a meal train for Charlie and I for weeks without expecting anything in return, so she was practically a saint in my books. The way the guys talked about her was heartwarming, to say the least. Their faces lit up with childlike adoration, and genuine affection at the mention of her name. She took care of them, the ones who looked out for the entire tribe. It was my first time going to Emily's, and I had no idea what to expect. I hated to admit that I was a little out of my depth here.

I moved on to the dresser with a frustrated grunt; may as well start from the bottoms and work my way up. I rifled through the neat stacks of assorted pants, but nothing seemed right. Nothing was good enough. I slammed it shut with as much force as I could muster, clipping my fingertip in the process. While I'm not particularly proud of the truly foul words that came out of my mouth just then, I'm sure Jake would have been.

A small rapping on the door froze me dead in my tracks. I had been so lost in my inadequate wardrobe that I'd completely forgotten the company I kept, and my first instinct was to call out foolishly, asking who it was. Which, of course, earned me a deep laugh from the other side. I mean honestly, who else would it be?

"It's the fashion police, open up!"

Perhaps it was because he was so spot on with his teasing that it was almost sickening, or maybe it was that deep honey-coated drawl. Either way, I was swinging open the door before my shortened, irate nerves caught up with me.

"Just in time," I whined bitterly, shifting the towel tighter against my chest. "I have nothing to wear."

My freshly washed hairs prickled at the back of my neck. There was a thickness to the air, and Paul remained absolutely motionless save for the trembling of his large hands. He didn't even seem to breathe. So maybe answering my bedroom door in nothing but a towel wasn't the smartest idea. Least of all when the man on the other side was half-wild animal. But self-preservation had never been my strong suit, and I was nothing if not consistent.

Paul seemed to rock forwards on his heels, leaning into me as though he would pounce at any moment, and I held my breath. Confused tornadoes spiralled out of control through my thoughts. I wasn't sure what he would do, or if I wanted to find out. I had enough sense not to run from a predator, but I wasn't sure that I could hold my ground either. Part of me, the pieces I'd been ignoring for weeks now, wanted to lean into him too. Those inexplicable chunks screamed for his foreign touch, for me to respond. To see what would happen. It would be so easy; What was there to be afraid of when you found yourself faced with absolute certainty that, should you dive in head first, someone perfectly suited to the task would be there to catch you?

But then he was tilting himself away, his features scrunched up as though the fluid motion took great effort on his part, and just like that the spell broke.

"Wear anything," he grunted. His voice was low, and and more throaty than I'd ever heard it.

"I guess," I shrugged. "I want to look good though. I'm meeting the Pack mom, this is a big deal."

He forced his eyes shut until his brows crinkled together. A deep rumble thundered in his chest, and he spoke through his teeth.

"You already look amazing," he croaked. "Emily's going to love you, she won't care what you're wearing"

"Oh. Yeah, thanks.." I flushed a deep scarlet at his flattery.

Mentioning what I would soon wear suddenly had me painfully aware of what I wasn't. I was naked, and Paul was in my room. It was completely mortifying. If Charlie were to walk in, he'd probably shoot him right in that broad, bare chest of his. My vocal chords seemed just as shy as I was, or perhaps they enjoyed watching me make a mockery of myself. Either way, they refused to speak up, and so I settled on clearing my throat. One traitorous hand poked at his pectorals, urging him to step back so I could close the door. Before the latch could click into place, there was a solid thump as the wood caught on something. I peered down to see a large tanned foot wedged between the frame and the door, and when I glanced back up his eyes were open. They weren't on me though. In fact, they seemed to be anyway but, and he was breathing heavy.

"Paul?" I whimpered. I needed this embarrassment to end

"Don't do that," he groaned, stepping into the room. "Just be completely silent."

Several times my lips parted, but again no words came out. I did manage a choked squeak as he picked through my drawers. His hands left the tidy piles in disarray. The havoc he subjected my closet to was no better, but he turned to me with a small, wadded heap of fabric in his fingers. He held then out for me with a sideways glance, and I began to question if there was any truth behind the rumors that this man was ever a womanizer. I was totally covered from the shoulders down, and he was blushing for Pete's sake. I took them with a polite smile, and he stuttered a breath when our knuckles rubbed together.

Inspecting the articles of clothing, I eyed them warily. They were fine, and would do the job like any other outfit I could have thrown together. But they weren't exactly my go-to's either.

"Just put them on," he bit out sharply, before adding a tortured: "Please."

I raised my free hand in a mock salute, hoping to dim the awkwardness. "Yes sir, Mister fashion police, sir."

Without my wrists locking it in place the towel began to slip. My arms flew to catch it, wrapped around my ribs before I could flash him more than either of us wanted him to see.

"Put some clothes on, for the love of God," he growled as he flung himself from the room faster than my eyes could follow.

I clutched the damp cloth to my body as the door slammed shut behind him. The heavy pounding of his feet on the stairs sent me into a panic. Paul was leaving. I rushed to get on the clothing he'd chosen for me before he could get too far, trampling down after him as fast as human legs and a freshly healed hip could take me.

...

_** PAUL LAHOTE ** _

Chivalry had never really my thing. It wasn't that I didn't understand it, or why it could be important, but monogamous relationships, or rather any kind of relationships, simply weren't in my field. I played within a court built solely upon spur of the moment, one-and-done hookups, carefully avoiding giving my sexual partners any illusion of more. They always knew where they stood with me, which, as things wrapped up in the sheets, would be nowhere. I strongly believed that the concept of commitment seemed counterintuitive to human nature. Surely no one person could be enough of everything to somebody else. It never seemed to have clicked for the plethora of absent fathers on the reservation either, who all took off at the first sign of a second line on the pregnancy tests. I was barely an embryo when my father followed the footpaths of many Lahote men before him, so I had no way to know that it would be my very first lesson in love. It wasn't until I was halfway through the teen years that I would give up on it entirely, swearing between bloody teeth that it was a shallow and unnecessary practice. Growing up in the same town with all the same kids was something of a science experiment, as the number of successful marriages quickly began to dwindle. The ones who managed to stay true to their vows were still less than lucky, in my eyes. Incessant bickering, and the exhaustion of jumping hurdle after hurdle in the race to the finish line was commonplace in whole homes. Only, with commitment, there wasn't supposed to _be_ a finish line. You just fell in love and then one of you died, and it was back to square one for the partner left behind. As though to confirm my suspicions, I watched on as Sarah Black was taken from the earth, leaving a devastated gaggle of children to a husband who had done everything right.

The dark, hardened chunk of my youthful heart had almost felt that Billy had been one of the lucky ones. He was a crowd-proclaimed faithful and free man, and could do whatsoever he pleased, and with whomsoever he chose to do it with. Because where was the variety, the _thrill_ , in coming home to the same person each night?

It was with Billy's own daughter, Rachel, that I learned the other aspects of commitment; regular sex. We hadn't exactly been together, but we took our time learning each other's bodies like we were. She was every bit as intrigued as I was when it came to what made someone hum and twitch and writhe. It was pure, unadulterated curiosity. There was nothing romantic about it. We didn't need all the candlelit picnics or hand-holding that it took other couples to get ready. The first time she kissed me it was urgent and needy, born of rebellion and gnashing teeth. She had hardly wasted a second before her knees hit the rug, and I couldn't even pry my eyes open to look at her when her mouth had currents of lightning zipping as far down as my toes. No, we had no need for romance. From then on it was all weekend nights and silently unlatched windows, while her sister made pillow replicates of her in her bed so that their father didn't notice she was gone. We traded sit-down dinners in restaurant booths for a sweaty backseat and gas station snacks, and I thought it was as close to love as I'd ever get. Some small, naive part of me imagined that if anyone would, she was the girl who was going to make me believe. At the very least, she could make it feel damned good getting there. But her mother died, and then she left, taking that tiny sliver of hope with her. I was a fool for thinking she could change what was already set in stone. So I tried my hand at another play, something primal and iced over, promising to never get attached like that again.

From the day I realized that other girls could get on more than just my nerves, I had chased their tails like it was the meaning of life. I drowned the familiarity of Rachel's face as she lost control beneath me. I had been pleasantly surprised to find that they were all pretty much the same in that sense, despite their relative differences. Sometimes I had to play around with my repertoire to get a new girl to fall apart, but I could always get them there. Even before the muscles and wolfish allure, women had fallen in line to fall prey to all the same moves. That feeling was just like before, and I was detached enough to follow through when the urge came calling. A winning smirk here, a small compliment there, and they were putty in my talented hands. It was an advantage I had manipulated so proudly that it became a crucial component of my identity. Paul Lahote, both a dirtbag and a womanizer. I collected sexual encounters like a prize thief, stripping away innocence and morals with every first time I added to my list. I was a connoisseur with wide taste, attempting to satisfy an insatiable palette. No amount of parental threatening could halt the wrecking ball as I crashed into the walls of their daughters until we were both sweating puddles of bliss. Nothing would stand in my way as I tried like hell to validate the products of abandonment.

Nothing but an imprint.

It had knocked me on my ass in a way I had never known possible. What once seemed like a blind lie, a sickening mystical sense of false adoration meant to throw a sheet over the downfalls of the heart, became so much more. It became a triumphant, flaming truth, clear as day and bright as the sun. It seared brilliantly through my retinas, and I couldn't bring myself to look away. Had I tried at any point to close my eyes it would still appear, red and warm under my eyelids, visible to the extent of no escape. There was no reprieve, no way out, and no will to turn my back on it. Not on her, not even for a second. She was my gravity, my wake up call, my future. Bella wasn't some notch on a post, or a misplaced fantasy swirling around the pack mind. She was good, and pure, and it made me feel dirty to think about my shaded past. I had everything so twisted before, and now I was left to wonder if I was even capable of treating her differently. I wanted to, more than I had ever thought possible, and yet here I was, drooling on her like a pup in heat, with a head crammed to the brim with devious intentions.

So I did the one thing I had never fully allowed myself to do; I cared.

I put every measly sliver of strength I had, and then some, into walking away from her. This new morality urged me to turn in my tracks while the universe aligned in such a testing way that she would be both aroused and entirely undressed without me having so much as lifted a finger. It was with great agony that I ate down the words I wished I could whisper in her ears. My fingers balled into tight fists as my mind dredged up every filthy and delicious image Jacob couldn't keep at bay while phased. I had never wanted a girl as much as I wanted her. But I turned around anyways. Just straight up left the damn room where her scent coated every surface and her cheeks pinked each time our eyes met. I did it because it was her, and she was better than that. Better than me. She was everything, she _deserved_ everything. That wasn't to say that I didn't immediately regret the decision; I was still a man, with eyes, a prick, and a healthy bloodstream.

But I hadn't stayed to watch because Bella Swan was my soft spot. My klutzy, floral scented Achilles tendon.

I made enough noise down the creaky stairs to put an elephant stampede to shame. Frustration left a messy cloud over my vision, and I collapsed against the wall. I rested my arm high on the ancient paint, and hung my head on top of the shivering limb. The air was heavy with desire and regret, making it a conscious struggle to sop up into my lungs. There was an ache over the bond, but I had no way to know if it stemmed for her or myself. The Spirits were laughing again, leaching pleasure at my pathetic expense while I fought to simultaneously evict the image of her from my mind, and sear it into my memory forever. If I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror right then, I was sure that I wouldn't recognize the sweat-soaked face staring back.

She was the death of me. The closer I let her get the further I felt the reigns slip out from my clutches. I could barely hold myself back, hardly had any time to brace myself as the carriage went speeding over a cliff, from which there would be no return. She was killing me; slowly, tenderly, completely. Worse so, because she didn't even realize that she was doing it. How do you explain to someone that they're tearing your willpower to shreds?

That it's their hands tightening the noose around your neck when they had no idea they even knew how to tie a knot?

A sudden crash came from her bedroom as her door hit the offending drywall in its path. Before I could call up to ascertain that she was still alive and conscious, she flew down the staircase like a hurricane. Immediately her currents swept me off my feet, and I was drowning in her all over again. She had dressed quickly, her pale fingers still tugging on her sweater, but not before I caught a glimpse of the creamy flesh of her navel. She only had four stairs to go when she noticed me, and I must have startled her, because one foot nicked the other and she was hurtling off-balance. Unkempt cinnamon locks surrounded her face like a halo, and there was an angel flying into the air in front of my disbelieving eyes.

"Shit," I cursed as I leapt to catch her before she broke her pelvis all over again.

By no small miracle, I caught her just in time. Her chest slammed against mine, pushing the wind from her ribs with a loud "oof". I held her close, drinking her in. Everything about her within the safety of my arms had gone rigid, braced to fall. I waited patiently as her mind fumbled to catch up with the events. I expected her to pull away, but was pleasantly surprised when she slumped all her weight against me in what I hoped was relief. One of her arms had fallen wildly around my shoulder, almost like a hug, and the other clung to my hip like a lifeline. The Wolf was perplexed by how magnificently we fit together, but my focus was elsewhere. She was gasping unsuccessfully, and I thought I might have collapsed her lungs on impact.

Once upon a time I had dressed as a sexy doctor for Halloween. I thought the schtick was hilarious back then, because I couldn't have performed basic CPR if a life depended on it. Now, it was a horrendous observation, because even if I could I doubt it would be anything but a wrong move on an already caved in chest. Oh my god. I couldn't lose her, I'd only just found her. We didn't know one another yet. Hell, I didn't know her middle name. Maybe it would have been better to just let her fall down the stairs.

I pressed her to the wall, bringing my knee to rest on a higher step as I braced her upright.

"Bella, are you alright?"

She choked and wheezed as reply, and terror coiled in my veins. My automatic response was to phase, and I grappled for control. Not here. Not with her. Oh god, what if I killed my mate trying to save her hip. What if I shifted on these stairs and damaged her further; how would I live with myself? Worse yet, how would I explain that to her father?!

"Nonononononono please be okay!" I cried over the acid on my tongue.

I pressed my ear to her heart. It was as though the plug that had harbored angst and fear was yanked from the drain. Everything but her wellbeing was flushed from my mind when I heard the healthy whooshing of two expanding lungs. She must be just dazed, then. I could live with that. More importantly, so could she.

"Breathe baby, come on" I cooed, gazing up and smoothing her hair back. She tried to speak. "Shhh shh shhh. In and out, Bella. In. That's it. Out. There you go. Again."

I made her do this several times until I was certain that she was in control.

"Colliding.. with you... Is like... Hitting.. a brick.. Wall," she panted out between desperate chokes.

I chuckled in disbelief. "Clearly it left your humor intact."

Her answering grin was weak, but that she was well enough to make an effort was comforting in itself. No brain damage from the temporary loss of oxygen. I rose from my knee, needing to ensure her togetherness. It was staggering how tiny she was. Fragile, physically. It was a wonder that this miniature woman had survived so much. I begrudgingly pried her arms from my body one at a time, holding them up under my cautious scrutiny. When they found nothing of concern, my bulky fingers slipped to her jaw. She yielded without question when I pushed her chin carefully to each side, turning her head in both ways. Graciously, she was unscathed.

' _Good_ ', hummed the Wolf. Then he chastised me as best he could for harming our mate. He had no way to comprehend that it had been in the holy name of valiant intentions.

With my inspection complete, I couldn't bring myself to pull away. Electricity hummed where our bodies connected, and we stood there for who knows how long, my hand on her cheek, her back against the wall. I knew she felt it too, because somewhere along the line her battle for air shifted into a more distracting brand of breathlessness. It didn't matter that it hadn't been my intention to work her up from my touches. It didn't matter that we were practically strangers, or that I had other plans. Not when she had me under that spell yet again. Both of us seemed to have forgotten about her ever falling in the first place. There was only her and I, and the way that every inhale rubbed her chest across mine. She was in my arms and she was biting that lip just how I wanted to, and I couldn't take my eyes off her. The delicate curves of her supple lips demanded to be kissed, and I ached to be the one to do it. Hell, I'd already seen her almost naked, and saved her like a damsel in distress. It felt right. I was as good as promised to her for eternity, and here she was, pinned beneath my weight, and she wasn't turning me away. She was looking at me, and it felt like we saw everything, but she wasn't turning me away. She could have my whole life if she so chose, I didn't want it without her. Without the arousal dripping from her in heady waves like it was now, driving me to the brink of insanity.

I had to remind myself that this was Bella. Dammit.

I forced back the swirling fog and pushed the first non-sexual words I could think of over my teeth. Hoping against all the instincts shouting to do otherwise that it would kill the mood before I lost myself to her entirely.

"You're wearing the outfit," I commented.

I'd chosen a cozy looking mustard colour hoodie, at least a few sizes too big on her, and a simple pair of black leggings. I'd mostly picked them because they didn't smell like the other wolves, but also because I had never seen either of them in the pack mind. This outfit was just for me. Which really wasn't in favor of my self-control.

"Yeah," she whispered, licking her lips.

And God, if that wasn't the hottest fucking thing I'd ever seen.

"It looks nice." I wanted to peel it from her body almost as bad as I wanted her to want me to.

She nodded absentmindedly. "Thanks."

I had to get her out of here. Outside. In public, where I couldn't act like an idiot. Shit.

"We should go."

"Yeah."

My resolve was fraying under her laser stare. Her short sentences came out low and husky, and I was down to the wire. I needed to breathe air that wasn't saturated with her.

"Right now," I ground out.

Why wasn't she moving? I offered her an out. I had handed her the chance to slip away from the sleeping beast she was poking on a silver fucking platter. Only she didn't move. Neither did I.

"Please, Bella," I moaned, my forehead falling to rest on hers. The name on my lips was a siren song, begging to be sung. She was too close, too much, too everything. "Get in the car before I-"

I didn't dare finish that sentence. Saying that I wanted her aloud made it real, and I was trying really damn hard to eradicate that particular notion. Of course, she was far too stubborn to let it go. Her eyes flashed with an emotion I recognized, but couldn't place at first. I found the answer in her challenging tone.

"Before you what," she pushed. Defiance.

She wanted me to say it. To make it real. Christ, she wanted me as bad as I wanted her. I was starving for her, and she was dangling it quite literally in front of my face. That was all it took for that single thread to snap. My throat was thunderstruck, gutteral noises pouring out in steady, unstoppable showers. My palm left her face to trail into the dips and curves of her body. Long fingertips appreciating every bit they met along the way, before reaching behind her to the back of her thigh. I hiked it up over my waist, inching her closer than I ever imagined she'd let me.

"Before I.." my breathing was loud in my ears, but I didn't care. Just this once.

I could let myself lose control just this once. Only a little.

I paid the same attention to the other side, pulling her off her feet. Her legs squeezed me for dear life, afraid I'd let her fall, and my knuckles flexed. Using my hips and one hand on the firm globe of her ass to support her, I shuffled her up to eye level. The way she shuddered against me did not go unnoticed.

"Before I lose control and do something I really, really shouldn't," I finished. My Wolf snarled at me for holding back.

"Who says you shouldn't," she pushed, her chin upturned slightly.

A low growl ripped from my throat, and I curled into the inviting space she unknowingly left for me under her jaw line. My lips kissed and lapped and sucked at the flesh there, and her gasps were music to my ears. She was every bit as delicious as I knew she'd be. Her pulse hammered a sweet symphony as I moved towards her earlobe, and it missed a beat or two when my mouth landed just a smidge lower. The sweet spot. I nipped at it on impulse, and the strangled moan from her lips was unlike any melody I'd ever heard. Her arousal flushed away any good intentions I had towards her.

"You're playing with fire, Bella," I groaned into her skin.

My hips bucked up against her core. She cried out, so I did it again. The animal was grasping for control, snapping at his cage to let loose upon the wonderland that was Isabella's body. My free hand ached to palm at her breast, knowing how easily I could have her arching into my touch. Begging. Gasping for air. I wanted to pluck her nipples like a fine tuned instrument until her thighs began to quiver. I wanted everything she was willing to give me.

But not like this.

"And you're not ready for the consequences," I rasped, grinding my hips up once more.

She struggled for control, her words a breathy whisper. "How would you know what I can handle?"

I was amused by this, and pulled back to read her face. Such a fiery little thing. Every ounce of her pleasure was bleeding through the bond, taunting me as it mingled with my own. It was overwhelming, the feel of Bella closing in on her orgasm. But what right had I to provide it for her without knowing if it would be her first? Maybe it was right that second when I realized that perfect Bella Swan did not need me to be a hero; she already was one. It was her who was meant to save me, the wolf in sheep's clothing. She would tame me as much as one could a wild thing.

But was who I was, and a wolf would never be a pet.

"Exactly," I purred with a sly grin. My fingers brushed over her bellybutton, and she bowed her spine. "Figure I'll need to take to dinner first."

"You don't know a thing about me, Paul Lahote."

Her head fell back against the wall, pink eyelids fluttering slightly as I mapped out more of her sensitive skin with my tongue. I refrained from letting my fingers dip lower, knowing that she'd let me. She was just as lost in me as I was in her.

"Bella," I warned, catching her pulse point in my teeth. "Tell me to stop."

"No."

"You don't know what you're asking for," I reasoned.

I wanted her eyes open. I wanted to make her come undone at my fingertips, and for her to see me when I did it.

"Then show me," she pleaded. Or maybe it was a command.

I felt her nails rake against my skull, desperate for me to unleash myself. To give in to her. This beautiful enchantress of a woman, who'd barely shared a kiss, and never with me. I didn't even know her middle name. Shit. What was Bella's middle name? She was better than this. Better than the rest of them. Better than _me_.

I ripped myself from her, setting her down on the floor beside the staircase. "I can't do this," I puffed.

If looks could kill, the hurt on her face could wipe out a nation. I ached, my pain succumbing to hers, and they forged an unbearable sensation deep in my chest. Even like this, red and brokenhearted, she was absolutely exquisite. God, if I thought that corrupting her too soon was bad, rejecting her was worse. I shuffled towards her, and she flinched away from my touch. A touch that had previously been welcomed all over her.

"I promise that it's not-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," she spat, turning on her heels.

I watched her stomp towards the door, fearing that she'd never look at me with those dazzling eyes again.

"Let's just go."

Except I didn't immediately chase after her. My feet were stapled to the hardwood and my brows trembled in seething frustration. Bella was angry. At me. She was upset because I hadn't let my stained hands soil her untainted virtue. What I thought was me being a good guy, for the first time since my awakening to the female anatomy, had backfired miserably. How did I end up playing the villain?

The Wolf puffed a dissatisfied huff, as though to say: ' _I told you so!'_

Stupid mutt. If he hadn't been aching to jump her bones since the day he laid eyes on her, none of this would have happened. No way in Hell could I leave things like this. I marched after her for all I was worth, intent on giving her a piece of my befuddled mind.

...

_** BELLA SWAN ** _

I was apparently nothing like every other girls who threw themselves in a slobbering heap at the feet of Paul friggin Lahote. Because, unlike them, he had turned me away. Worse still, he had been a few mumbled words from spewing the typical 'it's not you it's me.' Right; I seemed to be hearing that a lot lately. Countless times I had defend his honor against Jacob and Quil, and their dire need to slutshame the Pack whore. I was the fool who had played devil's advocate for a man who seemed to have no qualms about playing my emotions like a fiddle. To simply toss me aside and say that he can't?

It was too familiar. Too.. _Edward_.

What was so wrong with me that I repelled the supernatural in that way, yet attracted their danger like a moth to flame? Tears burned with blinding pressure behind my eyelids as a boulder lodged itself between my collarbones. I wanted to believe that I wasn't so horrible, that it wasn't me. But facts were facts, and the collected data was staring me smack in the face. It was a mild comfort to know that Jacob would never turn me down. That reprieve was torn to shreds at the thought that he would never be more than a cherished friend to me. Why couldn't I want someone who was good for me, and wanted me back?

That thought stilled the unshed tears behind their dam. Did I want Paul? The weepy state of my nether regions seemed to boast so. It was absolutely mortifying.

As though I'd summoned the devil himself, the front door banged open behind me.

"You can't keep running away from me," he boomed. It was a slap in the face,

"Is that what you think I've done?"

He narrowed his eyes. "If the shoe fits, Princess."

"Yeah well, I seem to have misplaced all the times you made an effort in this." I glowered right back at him, unwilling to take all the blame.

"I'm here for you every night," he scoffed, eyebrows incredulously high. "I'm here because I know you can't sleep when I'm not."

I flushed several unflattering shades of fuchsia. In spite of the previous fury, his words had an immediate draining effect. I suddenly felt silly for having mistakenly reacted to him at all, and then overreacted to his abrupt halting of my mistake. I invited the guy in for breakfast and then pounced on him like a frisky little house cat. What was I becoming?

"I get it, I'm pathetic, okay? I'm sorry you got stuck with me of all people, and that I got carried away inside." I paused before murmuring under my breath. "Obviously you're not into me that way."

"Bella, you're not- Argh!" He was flexing his fingers again, grappling for control. He sapped in a few ragged breath. "You seriously think I don't want you like that?"

"You made it pretty clear," I shrugged, unable to look him in the face.

"I know you're not that dense," he began coldly. "You were standing up there in that flimsy little towel, and it was killing me, Bella. **KILLING** me." He raked his fingers through his hair from his wrinkled forehead down to the back of his neck.

"But you're.."

"A virgin," I finished. It sounded flat and dry.

"Perfect. I was going to say perfect."

I snorted at that and rolled my eyes. Right, because stupid boys reject a girl who's perfect.

"But you know what? Yes. You're also a virgin, and we aren't there yet. Not even close. God knows, I wanna be, but I'm not going to play the bad guy with you. You deserve your first time to be special, not some quickie on the stairs with some jerk you hardly know. Trust me, I'm not a nice guy, Bella, and I never have been. But you're a virgin, and you're way too good for me, and I won't mess this shit up."

He had inched closer as he ranted, capturing my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes. I'm positive that I resembled a dear caught in the headlights under his passionate stare. He appeared to search for some underlying message in my face, and when he spoke again it was soft and deliberate. Knowing.

"I'm not going anywhere, Bella. You don't ever have to rush with me." He slanted his head down, leveling himself with me. "And don't ever assume I would want anyone but you as my imprint ever again."

I was so lost in the revelation that I could arouse someone as gloriously handsome as Paul that it barely registered when he stepped away. I took notice of the dilapidated black truck parked in the drive, which he was climbing into. It looked newer than mine had been, but not by much. At first glance I was sure that his bulky form wouldn't fit, or at least have trouble doing so, but he folded gracefully through the driver's side door and waited. I admired how much the small black beast suited him for only a moment before sidling up to the door.

"Hey Paul?" I peeped, hopping up on the ivory leather bench seat. "I'm sorry I'm such a piece of work."

He smiled, a radiant flashing of teeth and a tiny dash of tongue. "S'okay."

Then the truck was flaring to life on four bald tires, and we were speeding our way towards La Push.


	15. Get To Know Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping you've stayed with me here, and that you haven't gotten too fed up with my clumsy start. I'm growing alongside this story, and I like to think that it shows.
> 
> Anyway, here's some plot and fluff, and a whole lot of imprinting craziness that I couldn't bring myself to avoid. Enjoy!

_**BELLA SWAN** _

"How can you not like Oreos?" Paul cried, his face scrunched up in disgust.

Friendly strands of sun fire filtered through the crystalline window panes, pooling in various golden ponds over the dash. The usually drab array of greenery teemed with life under the warming rays as we bustled along in the little black truck. A slight breeze rolled in from the west to fend off as much of the scorching heat it could with cool gusts of fresh air. Easy chatter carried through the small box, and for a second, it was easy to believe that this secluded moment was the only thing happening on Earth. It was as though we were the last two people left in the whole world, happily confined within these traveling walls.

His harsh snort tore me from my reveries, back into the conversation. I huffed defensively. "It's perfectly normal not to like every kind of cookie."

"Sure, whatever" he agreed. "That's all fine. But how can you not like the king of cookies? It's _treason_!"

A tiny smirk twitched over my lips. "Down with the biscuit kingdom!" I proclaimed.

He shot me a look of exaggerated mortification from behind the wheel. "You're a menace to society, do you know that?" I shrugged, both of us glancing out separate windows.

"More Oreos for you though."

He pondered that for all he was worth before nodding with a wily grin. "To hell with the patriarchy, then."

For once, I didn't cringe at the sounds of my own laughter. It was recognized as a naturally occurring phenomenon because of the current company I kept, and had a delightfully bell-like ring to it. A comfortable quiet drifted over the sunlit leather seats, the faint smells of the sea and wood smoke growing stronger the further we ventured through La Push. With an elegant waving of his thick wrist, Paul steered the vehicle into a turn before straightening out onto gravely terrain. As the black tarmac highway disappeared from the rearview, rocks pelted the underside of the bumbling truck, filling the silence with their ethnic beat. Driving with Paul was unlike anything I'd ever experienced, because I couldn't help but appreciate the grace with which he did it. The Cullens had driven like absolute maniacs, or getaway bank robbers, and had compensated for it with their low and luxuriously smooth rides. Jacob, while he meant well, tended to chatter so much that I hardly ever knew how long we were actually in the car. I never had a second to check the speedometer with him, probably for the best. Embry, I assumed, wouldn't be too bad to drive with, but Quil was still a month away from getting his learner's and I was already dreading the day. After all, if I couldn't trust him on his two mischievous feet, there was no way he could be trusted on any amount of wheels. My friends from school, aside from Angela, were definitely not the most mindful of drivers. Often, their movements were choppy and obviously inexperienced, and it sometimes took them several tries to perform the basic maneuvers. None of my friends back home had their own cars at the time, but Mom was as scatter-brained at the wheel as she was in any other situation. So much so, she even tended to distract Phil. My Dad was.. well, Charlie was a cop, so he was a little overbearing and protective. Not that it was a bad thing, by any means, but it did make for extra slow traveling. With one lazy hand subconsciously hovering near the gear shift, Paul was more steady than I was used to. His foot was light on the pedal, propelling us at a decent pace towards our destination only just below the limit.

The rhythmic churning of woodland scenery had opened the conversational gateways wide, allowing question after question to make itself known within our little bubble. It started with a comment on the weather, and continued with him earnestly wondering about my middle name. Now it had become something between a competition, a game, and friendly conversation. One of us would ask a question that both answered, and whoever found the query that held the oh-so-elusive common ground between us would be declared the winner. Though at this point, I'm sure we would just continue to play regardless. We tended to pick topics bordering on mundane and ordinary, but it was clear that he felt every bit as fascinated by my replies as I was with his. It only half surprised me that we supported drastically different opinions on just about everything. My favourites seemed to be what he loathed, and vice versa; it was nearly rounding on a half hour of grilling, and we had yet to agree on a single thing.

"Favorite.. animal?" I probed, rubbing my palms over my thighs.

"Cougars."

I cracked up. "I said favourite animal, Paul, not pastime."

"Hey now, that's a low blow, Swan." He grinned, not provoked in the slightest.

"I like owls."

His lips pursed in concentration beneath the two brown eyes he kept glued to the road. "Why?"

"I just think they look cool."

"They look like they would read a lot," he observed. "Yenno, if they could."

His breath caught in his throat as I leaned over the seat as though I was about to unleash a wild conspiracy. "Who says they can't?"

A sharp guffaw shattered about the cab, and he gripped my entire face in his huge palm. The hand pushed me backwards, and I thoughtlessly flicked my tongue over his finger. He tasted salty and rich, and a little bit like dirt.

"Hey, gross! Keep that tongue to yourself" he chastised, his face the pretty picture of distaste. Like a flipped switch, he wagged his thick brows provocatively. "It takes more than a homemade breakfast to crawl up in these silky drawers."

I rolled my eyes, but fire erupted beneath my cheeks. Perhaps it was a bit too soon for those reminders. I glanced at the time impulsively, realizing that we must be getting close. Panic prodded at the spot where my ribs meet, and I was vaguely aware of my knee bobbing nervously.

"So tell me about Emily," I murmured in what I hoped was a casual tone. "She's Sam's imprint, right?"

He nodded, but offered no elaboration. I waited. Just as I was about to ask again, his deep voice wreaked havoc on my quickening pulse.

"She's very... welcoming. Got the biggest damn heart, and more patience than any woman you'll ever meet," he declared.

"I believe it."

"She fought the imprint at first, did you know that?"

"You can do that?" I croaked, my eyes bugging out of my head like an insect. He seemed unnerved by the question.

"In theory. We're whatever you need," he reminded me in a sobering tone. "So if you aren't ready and need us to take a hike, we'll try our best to do that."

I wondered how that could be possible, to entirely deny such an immediate and intense connection. Perhaps it wasn't as demanding for the wolves if they were able to step away from their imprint. I thought back on the achy, writhing nights without Paul's presence, suddenly ashamed.

"She eventually gave in though," I stated dryly.

He snorted again. "Not lightly."

I didn't understand what he meant by that, but there was a hesitancy over the bond. His eyes shifted to mine warily, so I knew that he was hoping I wouldn't ask. I let it go by steering the subject back to its original track.

"So what's the, like.. vibe there?"

The air whooshed from his lungs with relief. "Chill. Jus' do whatever."

It did little to satiate my appetite. "But is it more of a "shoes off at the door, but grab your own drinks" chill, or like an "it's okay if you have a beer, we won't tell your dad" kind of chill?"

That was apparently not a scale he was particularly familiar with, and his jaw hung slack for several seconds. "She's not going to get you drunk, Bella," he chastised.

"Jeez, I just want to know what to expect." I grumbled. "You all talk about her so much, but I hardly know a thing about her."

"She's funny. Like, you wouldn't expect her to be, because she's really fuckin' sweet, but she joins in on teasing with the rest of us."

He was playing along! I vibrated with anticipation. "And?"

"And she loves all of us for what we are. Or maybe despite it. I don't know, but we try not to be around her in wolf form." A puzzled look crossed my face, which he, of course, didn't see it. "She had a bad first experience, so it still really freaks her out. That's why we try not to argue too seriously if she's there."

I supposed I understood, thinking back on the vicious snarls I'd caught wind of when Jacob had nearly torn apart my living room. That encounter alone haunted my dreams for a good few weeks afterwards. I couldn't help wondering what sort of situation Emily had been unfortunate enough to witness, that it could scare her from the wolves so thoroughly, and if Sam was the exception to that. Before I could ask, Paul's passionate ranting wrangled my attention.

"Emily takes care of us. Kinda like she imprinted on all of us, and she always knows how to be whatever we need." He must have sensed my jealousy, an emotion I was loath to admit, because he carefully added: "A sister, a friend, a mother. Not afraid to tell us what needs to be said, or that we're being idiots." He took on a sheepish tint, as though he'd recently bore the brunt of one such lectures.

"What else?"

"If you see her grabbing her good spoon, start running. You won't escape, but it'll buy you some time."

A girlish giggle rippled over my lips. The image of a menacing Paul being taken out with kitchen ware danced through my thoughts. Despite the goofiness, I could tell that he respected her just as much, if not more, than the rest of the pack. His opinion was incredibly important to me, I realized belatedly.

"At least somebody can keep you overgrown miscreants in line," I teased, adding a wink when he glanced my way.

I graciously pretended not to notice how his breathing stuttered at the gesture. His voice dropped several comforting octaves in sincerity.

"Seriously babe, don't worry. Em's gonna love yah."

"I hope so," I whispered, blushing at his casual use of the pet name.

My fingers twisted into the soft cotton of my big yellow sweater, which, admittedly, was much cozier than I remembered it to be. It's bright fabric reflected the light while the mild thickness fought off the cool wind. He had undoubtedly chosen the perfect outfit for the day. I could only hope that everyone else thought so as well. I only had a few moments to over think my attire before the truck was swivelling sideways and we were pulling into an unfamiliar driveway. A tiny brown cottage poked through the loving embrace of the treeline. The lawn was wide and lush, despite having been trimmed at least a few days ago. It suited every fantasy I'd concocted, whispering gentle sweet nothings of endless care and a nurturing inhabitant. The home had clearly been built with love, or at least thoroughly saturated in it since the day the owner had taken up residence. Flowerbeds overflowing with bright native flora, and there was a large vegetable garden kissing the side of the house. The welcoming sensation had me immediately forgetting that I was ever worried to meet this woman at all.

"One more thing," Paul tossed out ominously. It was almost too casual. Shutting off the trick with a click, he added, "don't stare."

I was perplexed; stare at what? Surely I could admire the home without offending anyone. Before I had the chance to ask, he was out the door and waiting for me by the hood, the keys still dangling in the ignition. I sapped in one more breath for courage before following his lead, and we slipped towards the door in perfect synchronization.

"Bout time you showed your face around here," Quil bellowed.

Despite the fact it sounded as though he were right in my ear, I couldn't place him for the life of me. Spot Quil; it was a game he so loved playing, because I was genuinely super terrible at it. I probably looked as silly as I felt spinning in circles, until huge hot hands encircled my waist. He tossed me up over his solid shoulder, and began to run about the grass at blinding speed. The tiny yelp that squeezed from my throat was almost as concerning as the growls that rumbled from Paul.

"You've got no instincts, Bells," Quil chuckled, setting my feet on the grass. I briefly wondered how insane I would look if I bent down to pepper the dirt with gratuitous kisses. Instead I turned in his arms to bat purposefully at the human cage in which I had become so easily ensnared. "I could have been a killer," he pointed out.

"If you don't get those paws off me, there's going be two potential murders in this field," I deadpanned.

His hands flew upwards in surrender, but his kind eyes glimmered with dark and boyish pride. "So, you here for the party?"

I crinkled my forehead, casting brown daggers at my morning companion. "Party?"

His curious gaze turned to suspicion, also drifting in Paul's direction. The latter had his head tipped back on his shoulder blades, the sunlight milking over his tense face. Paul had apparently decided to blatantly was avoid the subject.

"Quil, what party?"

If there was a sacred event going on, I definitely didn't belong here. I wondered if Paul would let me take his truck home knowing that he could run to my window in either form without so much as breaking a sweat. Quil waited for Paul's quick nod before he spoke again.

"Emily's niece is turning two, and since Claire's parents don't have the time to throw a party, she offered to do it." He shrugged, but it wasn't enough to shake the impending sense of displacement I felt.

"I didn't know," I replied. "I wouldn't have... I should go then."

Paul scoffed. "I already told you, you're welcome to anything we are."

Quil subtly watched the exchange, but he seemed to feel the same. "You're Pack," he stated, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. A thick arm was slung heavily over my shoulder, and he used it to herd me towards the lip of the cottage. "Come on, you're stuck with us. Besides, you haven't met Emily yet, hey? Well you're gonna love her. And she makes these muffins, seriously they're worth losing a leg over." He chuckled, a lopsided grin slanting over his lips. "In fact, I almost have. A few times."

Paul trailed behind us, close enough to satiate the bond, but still so far as not to smother me. His footfalls were so quiet that I had to glance over Quil's wrist to see if he was even still there. We'd reached the door, and I was wondering if I should knock or if they would, but to my surprise the wolves barged right on through. Had Quil not been tugging me along, I would have protested the rudeness. The moment the door swung wide, savory scents of what could only be a hearty meal and fresh sugary pastries bombarded my nose. If it smelled this inviting to my human senses, it was no wonder the wolves ate the way they did. The home was openly splayed, with the kitchen separated from the dining area and living room by a long pine island counter. Interior walls matched the exterior, built of wide timber that gave off a pleasant woodsy aroma. No doubt this was where the boys picked up that natural smell that saturated their skin even when they hadn't been patrolling. There was a girl leaning over several steaming trays on the stove top, two pot holders folded like gloves shielding tiny brown fingers. Her hair was long, well past her hips, and sleek as an oil spill. It had a healthy shine I was inclined to admire, and I knew instinctively that this was Emily.

A wooden spoon went flying blindly over her shoulder, smacking Quil on the nose without even turning around. His hand froze halfway between his body and a heaping plate of ginormous cookies. "Don't even think about it, Ateara," she warned. Her voice was nasally, but in an endearing way, and higher than I expected. She turned slightly to fix him with what I imagined was like that of a scolding mother, but her hair fell in a shadow to block her face from me.

"Awweh c'mon Em," he whined, his lip jutting into a childish pout. "I was just gonna take one." He batted his lashes at her, hoping to score himself first her favor, and then a treat.

"It's starts with one," she began. She turned on her heels and I got my first look at her. Suddenly, Paul's warning made sense. "And then seven seconds later I'm left with an empty plate and a very sad birthday girl. Do you want to break a two-year-old's heart on her birthday? Because by all means, take your one and then down the rest of them too."

Emily had perfectly symmetrical and brilliantly features. Her nose was long and rounded on a heart-shaped face, with a chin that sharpened to a delicate point. Above it, thin lips naturally crept upwards into a seemingly permanent smile. She had pearly white and strikingly straight teeth, so bright against the contrast of her skin they left me breathless. She flashed them lovingly at a sulking Quil. Her eyes were large and endearing, and the same soft shade of dark brown that was commonplace on the reservation. But there were scars. Huge, jagged deformities, a twisted shade of out-of-place pink that belonged beneath her caramel skin rather than on the surface. They entrenched from her forehead on one side all the way down behind her rounded, bulky cheek. She was stunning despite this, and I immediately regretted having stared as I had been. I was grateful that she, at least, had yet to notice me. When she did, I forced composure and held her gaze with a sheepish smile. Don't stare. She seemed taken aback by my unexpected presence, and I felt that nervous twinge again.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, wringing her hands into a towel and bustling around the counter. Emily swatted Quil with the cloth, her pretty features twisting into a chastising glare. "You didn't even introduce your friend? I swear, you boys."

I made to step backwards, but Paul's palm low on my spine gently prodded me to hold my ground. Watchful caramel eyes did not miss the miniscule motion, and understanding flashed on the other female's face. "Bella," she sighed softly, almost a song.

I stretched out a hand for her to shake, which she elegantly swatted away. Instead, her arms drew me into a tender hug. She poured every ounce of love and affection into it, the same stuff that earned her such high praise from the wolves. My soul recognized her kindred aura, and I found myself easily hugging her back. I allowed my tense muscles to relax before giving her a firm squeeze.

"It's so good to finally meet you," she whispered.

This family, one I supposedly belonged to, wasn't anything like the Cullen's, but I found that I had never felt more welcome in my entire life. They, at least, weren't going anywhere. Hot tears sprung achingly to my eyes. "Yeah, you too," I choked out.

Emily pulled back slightly to drink in my face, surprised. "Oh Honey, are you crying?" She worried, rubbing her palms soothingly up and down my forearms.

Paul gravitated forwards slightly, uncertain of my reaction. I chuckled at myself, because _come on_ , and wiped beneath my puffing eyes. I shook my head with a smile, hoping she'd understand. It was then that I noticed she had a familiar faint glow, almost like a halo. I'd seen it first when Paul had crashed to his knees on my bedroom floor. At the time, I hadn't paid too much attention to it. The second time had been later that night, after Jacob nearly exploded out of his skin, and several shirtless boys had come to deal with the aftermath. That was when I took notice, seeing Jared and Paul both shining like angels. There had been an immediate and inexplicable comfort surrounding the illumination, and it had been impossible to fight. I knew without a doubt that I could trust them, as the pair bared their histories and spoke the supernatural once more into my life. The pieces had clicked on what exactly the light source was when Jacob told me all about the pack one afternoon. Jared, and a girl from school named Kim Conneweller. Sam and Emily. Paul and I. It was a beacon, drawing similar souls together for one reason or another;

Imprinted. Family. Forever.

The wet smacking of Quil's big mouth cut unceremoniously through the intimate moment. We turned to see his back to us, a cookie in each hand. One was already half gone, despite it being nearly as large as my face. Emily pulled away, but the thunderous bellow that came from her nearly shattered my eardrums anyway.

"QUIL ATEARA, YOU DROP THAT COOKIE! OR SO HELP ME I'LL-"

The offending shapeshifter braced himself for the threat, but a hurried pitter-patter of tiny footsteps cascaded down the staircase along the far wall, cutting her off. Three heads turned automatically towards it, and I gasped sharply. I knew that what I would soon witness would be both paramount and impossible. Time seemed to alter, slowing to almost nothing as the little girl bounded down the stairs. Paul's jaw tightened reflexively, teeth grinding. He had realized what I did. Emily's bewildered eyes darted from the girl, meeting mine in the middle, and I was certain that she knew it too. Seconds had passed, charged with an ungovernable outcome. Because the girl, no more than two years old, had a glow as well. By Emily's expression, it was a new occurence that probably hadn't been there until we arrived. And by the already mated count in the room, there could be only one.

As though my inward acknowledgment had taken hold of his body, Quil dropped the untouched cookie back onto the plate. He spun on his heel, confused by the static silence. His eyes followed our gazes, and Emily cried out, broken and shattering. They both hit their knees, opposing expressions of awe and scorn etched on their cupreous faces. A strangled, wheezing noise slipped from Quil, and the little girl cocked her head to the side, curious. Nauseating waves pounded into my spine, rocking me to my core. I was going to hurl. This can't be right, it shouldn't have happened. The tiny girl smiled, and I felt faint. The werewolf on his knees swayed under the magnitude of her magnificent grin, and all I could think of was how perverse this situation was. Unconsciously, I leaned back against Paul's steady frame behind me, solid and warm and safe. He was trembling, shaking like a damn leaf in the wind. My ears opened through the fog swirling thickly around the room, and I noted with disconnect that his chest was thundering. Enraged snarls poured from his throat, low enough that the little girl couldn't pick up on it.

But Quil did. Quil, who had just imprinted on a child, a baby, heard it loud and clear, and the euphoria slid from his features. Absolute mortification replaced it, and he was on his feet and scrambling out the door almost faster than my human eyes could follow.

Paul rushed after him, whether to beat him to a pulp or because he wasn't any more in control himself, I wasn't sure. I hardly noticed the tortured howl limping over the treetops, unable to tear my eyes from the girl. Claire. As she burst out in confused sobs, my feet moved on instinct, carrying me to her. The need to soothe her, console and cradle her was suffocating, and I was surprised at first. But then she hugged me back with her petite arms, still bearing remnants of chubby little rolls from infancy, and it was clear.

_Imprinted. Family. **Forever**._

...

"Pass me that onion," chirped Emily as she jutted her index towards it.

She was speeding around the small kitchen and barking orders with such precision and authority that it was hard not to be swept away. Emily was all graceful fluidity and perpetual motion, with just the right amount of tenderness to set the herd of otherwise rambunctious wolves at ease. It was quite the sight to see the boys slipping naturally from the anxious shells cocooning them since the news began to pass from ear to ear. The circulating shock swirled around in discreet whispers, but this was no place to discuss it. There would be a time, but I wasn't sure I wanted to be around for it.

Rather than allowing them to wallow in this cruel unknown, or sinking into a righteous fury herself, she encouraged them to continue forwards. To enjoy the moment for the sake of stress relief. They rose to Emily's challenge, lending her their muscles in the name of housework and party planning. It was clear to see who held them together when the seams threatened to unravel; the honorary pack mom was a miracle worker. As more hulking men had filtered through the door, she'd set them to their tasks. Food prep, decorating, stringing up the piñata. Everything was overwhelmingly pink and covered with cartoon royalty, almost comically contrasting the overgrown, burly men. When the cluster of short, hyperactive guests began to stream through the doors, Emily had continued to wrangle her team, but her voice turned bubbly and overly excited, putting forth the bravest of faces.

Jared and who I assumed to be Kim manned the food. He lifted child after squealing child up on his shoulders while she piled their plates with whichever foods were pointed out. Embry settled on the porch, the wind blowing soothingly through the open door as he tenderly painted skillful masterpieces on tiny, squirming faces. Most of the girls chose varying animals after Princess Claire herself declared it an "animal Princess party." The three attending boys all chose to be rats, and chased the girls around like wild things in a self-governed game similar to tag, which they called Rat-Pack. Sam was kind of all over, offering his services in the cramped kitchen until Emily shooed him off. I managed to sneak a few glances of him darting around the yard with the kids in lighthearted pursuit. It was easy to picture him with children of his own. If the wistful smiles Emily snuck him through the window was anything to go by, I wasn't the only one who thought so. Jacob was struggling to make balloon animals, grunting in frustration as each one failed to bend to his whims. Finally, he managed to forge a simple sword, and soon enough everyone had an airy blunt weapon of their own. Paul, to my utter amusement had been placed in charge of the swag station. It was a coffee table scattered with a ripe array of Disney cone hats, cheep feather boas and plastic wands. Someone had propped a full length mirror again the wall nearby, and he made a grand show of crowning each little prince and princess who shyly approached him.

I mostly observed contentedly from the sidelines, decorating cupcakes in the corner table above the presents. It was the only clear surface in the house. The slight whirr of the sliding back door behind me came as a minor shock, but the intense heat was a dead giveaway.

"It hurts to stay away," he croaked. If he had cried, I wouldn't be the one to point it out.

"I know."

"This is so fucked up."

I sighed. "I know."

Turning to face him, our eyes met and all the uncertainty drained from my body. I knew him. I loved this man fiercely, and it would always be that way, no matter what hand the gods or Spirits dealt him. He needed me, more than he ever had before. Embry and Jacob could be there through a lot, but they'd never understand this. Not like I did.

"I'm so so sorry, Quil," I murmured, pulling him into a tight embrace. I felt his staggered breaths against my chest as he clutched me tightly.

"It's not-" He choked on his words before trying again. "It's not how it is for the others. For you and Paul."

I peeled back to read his face, soaking up the insistence in his tone. "I don't see her like that. She's.. family. Like a little sister or something."

"How- but.. is that possible?" My thought processes fired slowly, groggy as they fumbled over this new information. Impossible information. "Has anything like this happened before?"

Quil's gaze grew hollow for a moment. "I don't know," he sighed. The faraway quality became steely determination. "But I know who might."

Our eyes locked, and he didn't need to say the words; I knew what he was asking of me. I nodded once, mentally placing Paul's truck keys.

"You drive," I whispered. But he shook his head.

I didn't miss the stubborn set to his jaw, the way it made the muscles protrude below his ears. "I'm faster."

Even with my foggy head, I could piece together the implication he threw at me. Arguing was futile. I knew we'd need to go fast, before anyone thought deeper into my sudden absence. It warmed me to realize that I trusted Quil implicitly, and that I could follow his without question. As a protector, he'd never risk my safety. But he was also one of my most dear friends, and that had the count for something. Hell, right now it was everything. We turned on our heels and slipped unnoticed out the back door, and I hardly had a second to avert my gaze before he was dropping his shorts past the treeline.

...

_**QUIL ATEARA** _

With everyone occupied at the birthday party, it left the pack mind eerily silent, almost uncomfortably so. This form wasn't one often accompanied with quiet time, and so the only reprieve was Bella's nervous presence. I prodded her spine with my cold, wet nose, and she turned slowly. Her eyes remained clasped tight, hands shaking in suffocating fists. It occurred to me then that this was likely her first time face to face with any of the wolves like this. I nudged her cheek, careful to be extra tender, and let out a soft whine. _Look at me_ , begged the wolf. _Accept us_. My rounded belly hit the earth in as unthreatening a manner as I could manage. If the startled squeak she gagged on when her brown eyes finally slid open was anything to go by, it hadn't helped too much.

"Quil?" Bella chirped hesitantly. I let my tongue flop over my canines in a lopsided grin, and she chuckled slightly. "It does sorta look like you."

I jerked my head towards my back, urging her to climb aboard. She ignored it. One of her tiny hands reached forwards to stroke my fur, and I leaned into the touch despite myself. The Wolf was apparently starved for affection, and he purred low in his throat as she caressed as deeply as she could. Crunching leaves and snapping twigs aligned with the sideways trail of her fingertips as she rounded my lupine body. I almost couldn't hear her shallow breathing over the racing beat of her heart. Suddenly, her grasp tightened into my fur, but still she hesitated.

"I won't.. it won't hurt you?"

My first instinct was to laugh. Did she really think we were so weak that a little hair pulling would break our backs? But then my insides swelled up, because she had barely recovered from the accident, and still her first reaction was to think of me, of my wolf. Bella really was the most thoughtful human being on the planet. I shook my head gently, perking my ears towards the overflowing house. I leaned slightly as one of her legs flew over my spine, then shifted with caution into the small girl's vault. I winced as she groaned a little, but she murmured that she was fine. Half of me expected her to fly off the other side, but her grip was firm and she fell perfectly into place. My paws danced forward tentatively, testing the new feel. The wolf was more impatient for answers, and snapped at my resolve. _Go_ , He seemed to shout. But the man knew that this was extra precious cargo, and would never forgive himself if she got hurt, especially trying to help him. Her body leaned forwards, practically lying down across me, and she squeezed her limbs for all she was worth. It felt a lot like a hug, but her palms patted the hairs on either side of my neck as though to soothe the animal.

Her voice muffled into my chocolate coat. "It's only a little uncomfortable, but not too bad," she assured me. "Go ahead, Quil."

That was all the urging my wolf needed to take control, shooting through the woods like a rocket. I was all too aware of my muscles as they writhed fluidly between Bella's thighs, and I hoped that she wasn't minimising her pain on my account. Then a breathy little giggle escaped her, and I knew that she was at least enjoying herself in spite of whatever aches she might be enduring. Her head was nowhere near as high in the clouds as mine was; the animalistic thrill that this form afforded had no competition. Nothing beat running on four paws. The speed, the rush, the strength; if I could begrudge the Wolf anything, I wouldn't be this. Bella let out bewildered gasps now and then, but she didn't let go, so I didn't slow down. Admittedly, the act of her riding wolfback seemed almost like a betrayal to Paul, as though I was partaking in something intimate with his mate, but I refused the notion. I never would have considered traveling this way with her if it weren't a necessity. Plus, I noted, it was as much for her benefit as it was for mine.

Taking the imprints up the hill, to the cottage there, was every bit an ancient tradition as morphing into a wolf and defending the village. The blood of the tribal healer ran deep in my veins, and so it was something heavier than instinct that drove me to do it. It was duty, by any means necessary. Paul had been hesitant to bring her to the medicine man before he was one hundred percent certain she wasn't going to spook and run off. It's like he was afraid of pushing her too far, or worried that she already had been by the leeches, and one more bout of hard-hitting information would send her reeling off the deep end. We'd begged him relentlessly to give the girl more credit. She had run with our enemies and lived to tell of it, even if only just barely. I tossed my head back, a loud yip rattling the emerald leaves. Bella flinched, but held steady. The warning was merely a courtesy. Grandfather would already know, as he always seemed to. He'd probably be waiting with a lit cigar and a steaming cup of Sitka spruce tea.

The wolf sped on, his mind wandering dreamily towards a girl on his back, blasting through the woods. Only it wasn't Bella in his eyes, never her. But there was a suffocating guilt stemming directly from wanting to feel one of Claire's surely radiant smiles as she beamed down at the world from the high perch of his shoulders. Everything we knew about her, which wasn't much, overshadowed everything else. She wasn't even three years old, but we burned to let her know she was special, and would always have someone there for her. That she'd always have us, my animal and I. Claire Young was inexplicably the most important thing in our world now, and it was infuriating that her own parents couldn't even be bothered to throw her a simple birthday party for Christ sakes. It almost seared a hole in my chest that I was missing her celebration. If not for the coil in my gut letting me know that she was currently happy, I would have never allowed myself to live it down. At this very moment though, the bond whispered that she was having the time of her life, and that was more than enough for me.

I noticed a silver trail of smoke drifting heavenward over the pines. We were close. I could taste the woodsy aromas of the secluded cottage tingling over my memories, see it poking through the blooming, carefully tended shrubbery that surrounded it. The comforting warmth of the hearthstone beckoned me forwards, calling me to my grandfather's home like a lighthouse. He would have the answers, and the decrepit series of yellowing pages as evidence to back them up. Somewhere there were dusty, ancient texts in the Native tongue, and they would have the information; they had to. Almost there now, not too far. I was partway up the hill, the one that I'd always believed to be a mountain when I was just a kid, in the heart of a hemlock grove. Minutes later a modest structure slipped into view. The slender silhouette of an aged man was leaning expectantly over the railing that wrapped around the little house. His kind, piercing eyes held no hint of surprise, and, true to form, a steaming mug rested in each of his hands. I caught sight of the third one at his feet, and something like a guffaw slid through my teeth. I slowed to a crawling pace as we neared, my frantic nerves immediately sedated in the Elder's presence. Bella's heat lessened slightly as she sat upright.

"Isabella Swan," he hummed thoughtfully. His deep rasp, carried over the clearing, followed but the wet click of her jaw falling slack. "Can't say that you're a girl whom I ever expected to find straddling my grandson."

To blame my elderly grandfather for my crass humor seemed mildly unfair, but he just had a way of wording things that was somewhat.. Cringeworthy. I groaned as he continued, ousting my hidden intentions.

"I've been waiting for you to come here with another wolf entirely, but this is still a welcome surprise." Yeah, Bella could have used a warning.

Slim fingers dug into my shoulder blades. Grateful for the inability to respond, I sidled up to the handcrafted porch steps and dropped to the dirt. Bella mumbled gratefully, using the wooden bannister to support her weight as she hauled herself to her feet. She promptly turned her back to me, and so I didn't bother hiding away to phase.

"All clear Bells," I called after a moment, adjusting the elastic of my loose-fitting basketball shorts. There was a sour tinge to her nod.

Bella caught him off guard when she whirled on him. She jutted her hand out like she had all the confidence in the world. "You're the most experienced Quil, if my memory serves me correctly?"

He laughed low in his belly, pleased. "That's one way to put it." He offered his withering palm to her with ease, eyes crinkling in the corners. "High praise, from one of the Wolf girls."

She blushed, the term hitting close to home on our earlier conversation. Wide eyes darted in my direction, and it seemed that her small rush of confidence had run dry. Something of a conversation hung in our gazes, like two kids in line for a spanking. We stood in harmonic solidarity. At once, several things became flamboyantly clear between us.

The first was that all of us had chosen to blatantly omit the news that Old Quil would be expecting her presence specifically. She seemed annoyed, but not overly upset, therefore we had no need to dwell on it now.

The second was that my current predicament had occurred at least once before, and we were about to hear that story to completion.

The last realization, the most threatening of them all, was that whatever the verdict was for either of us, it wouldn't come without shattering at least a few walls.

But we were determined to face it with our chins up. Running from the fates as they flayed stone-set futures beneath our trembling feet was surely impossible. An imprint was irrevocable, and there was always a reason for it. Bella's fingers slipped over mine, an almost unconscious motion. Her paleness interlocked with my oversized, honey coloured, hands. Old Quil watched the exchange with fond amusement, silent and speculative. I figured getting right to business was the best course of action.

"Something's happened," I declared firmly. He nodded, eyeing me with a gaze that saw to further depths than I knew I possessed.

"You imprinted." I hung my head. "Well, who is she?"

My voice faltered only slightly, more so from fear of the audience than shame. I met his gaze as I gulped her name like a lifeline. "Claire Young."

If he was even slightly surprised, it didn't show. "I see."

One frail hand held out a mug towards Bella, and his head gestured towards the one at his feet. "Well, get your tea, Boy. You two had better come inside."

He ambled lazily into his home, certain we would follow without protest. I bent down to retrieve the mug left for me. Bella squeezed my knuckles as I unbent, both a declaration and a plea. As though to say that she would hold my hand through this as best she could, so long as I lent her the strength to get her through the door. So I crossed the threshold with her in tow, grateful that, of all the people it could have been, I was here with one of my best friends.


	16. Stand Together

_**JACOB BLACK** _

Days before phasing that first time, everyone in the pack noticed a significant heightening of senses. Suddenly, across the parking lot, the nose could detect tantalizing evidence of a half eaten pizza. Time moved in a gracefully sluggish waltz, allowing fast hands to catch a glass midair, seconds before it exploded like shrapnel on the kitchen tiles. Sight honed with uncanny precision on anything and everything, watching instinctively for lurking shadows we had yet to be made aware of. Simply existing in that elevated state was such a rush, it was no wonder anyone ever did drugs. Life on top was to die for. We ran further, faster. Lifted higher, and heavier, pure supreme power. Since then we had each added supernatural hearing, and stellar performance in most aspects to the compiling list of physical perks.

So _how_ did we miss it when the slowest, most clumsy human in the world took off into the woods?

One moment Bella is standing by the back door with a lazy smile etched over her perfect face, slathering pink sugar over pink cupcakes, and the next she just.. wasn't. She was gone. Without pausing to soak in any ounce of logic, my wolf reacted. Now, this wasn't exactly an easy task, because distinguishing the particular scents at the scene of the crime was nearly impossible. We had all carelessly drowned the house to the bones with our personal brands, through months of loitering. Though her essence carried a different pop, something vaguely floral and sweet, with a bit of fire to it, my frantic wolf refused to focus. He was chomping at the bit, ready for a confrontation regardless that he had no idea who or what he was up against. He didn't even know where to start. Such was his nature, an animal poised and fit for the fray. It wasn't until I'd tracked her unique trail outside that I caught a good whiff, and realized exactly who it was that she'd let carry her off. Not a vampire; something worse, someone stupid.

It's never in a proud moment that one turns on their own brother. Unfortunately, half of me was pawing the line of predator playing as a domestic lap-dog, and it was prone to jumping to conclusions. The beast was built for the hunt, to kill, and his hackles raised without waiting for the facts to catch up. Because of course Quil would never hurt her. He was constructed of the same mystical materials that I was, and he loved Bella nearly as much, albeit in his own way. But she was gone, and apparently hadn't had the good sense to clue any of us in as to why that would be, and suddenly everything reeked the wrong way. There was panic tainting her sweet scent, sour tinges of sweat. Something else, too. A familiar yet surprising blend of excitement; Adrenaline. The sunken prints that could only follow that of a gigantic brute spoke a thousand words. Bella, for whatever reason, was riding a Wolf, meaning that whatever the situation, Quil needed to hightail it in a hurry, silently, so as not to be noticed. If that alone wasn't cause for unhindered worry, I'm not sure what it would take to fit the bill.

Unwarranted dread left my mouth dry. What if Quil had convinced her to run away with him? Not as lovers, of course. But the guy had just imprinted a fucking child, so it wasn't like he would be in good mental health with the aftermath of that fiasco. Bella wasn't really much better, even with all the progress she'd made since the Cullens. Maybe things were too much for them, too uncertain, and they decided they would abandon it all. There was a million places they could go, and Quil was just stupid enough to actually go through with a plan like that. Everyone with a pulse between heaven and hell knew how convincing Quil could be when he wanted something. I hadn't even realized I was pacing like a madman until fingertips dug into my shoulder, effectively halting me.

"Whats got your knickers knotted, Jake?"

I pivoted, coming face to face with a grinning Embry. The smile slid from his lips as he caught sight of my dark glower. "Bella's gone."

He blinked back, processing. Disbelief contorted his soft features. "What do you mean Bella's gone?"

I waved my arm through the air, gesturing vaguely. "I mean she's gone. Vanished. Took off." My tone was dry, annoyed that we were wasting precious time. Who knows when they left, they could be halfway to Canada by now.

"Where did she go?" Embry's voice was low, his words coming slow and jumbled. He glanced around the scene, coming to the same conclusion on the getaway as I did in half the time. "Quil wouldn't do anything stupid."

I levelled him with a gaze, reminding him of whom he was speaking. "Shit," he cursed, ruffling his fingers through the dark tresses on his head. "Go get Paul, I'm gonna run a trail."

I nodded, turning on the ball of my heel and taking off towards the house. Embry jogged into the trees, his hands already fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. _Paul_. I scoffed out loud. What use was the bond if he couldn't even be bothered to pay attention for five minutes? Crossing the threshold was like entering another world, from someplace chaotic into a smothering bubble of joy. Less than ten minutes ago, I'd been equally wrapped up in the party, but it felt like days had passed. Feeling out-of-place, I slipped behind Paul, who was fixing a tiny hat atop a little girl with red-rimmed eyes.

"There," he sung, wiping tears from her long eyelashes. "See? This crown is even better than the other one!" The girl giggled, her voice still hoarse. "And who knows, maybe after we have cake I'll help you find it anyway." He winked at her, and she blushed, running off to play.

My eyes trailed her as she went, distracted. "Paul."

"Sup bro. Yeesh, you wouldn't believe how crazy these little things get over a dollar store hat." He rolled his eyes, but there was a cheeky glint under the motion, and I knew he was enjoying himself. Wouldn't you know, the resident time bomb was a big old softy. Super.

"Paul," I repeated. He must have sensed the urgency. All the light paled from his features, and he was instantly as serious as he always was. "It's Bella."

"Where is she?" That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Couldn't he intuit her whereabouts? Paul rose to his feet, needing no further explanation to hop into action. I shifted uneasily, not sure how to word it without taking a fist to the jaw. "You better start walking or talking," he growled.

I was hyper aware of a dozen wide, innocent eyes as they flocked our little corner. Whatever his reaction would be, this wasn't the place for it. I jerked my head towards the door. "Outside," I murmured.

I could feel the tension rippling off him in tidal waves as he followed hot on my heels. Leading him back towards the spot where Embry had slipped away, I faced him, debating where was the least dangerous place to start.

"Embry's already out looking for them," I began nervously. "But she took off, man. We have no idea why, or where."

His eyes carved a nervous pit into my chest, burning holes through my hardened exterior. He hadn't missed a word, and I shuddered. " _Them_ who?"

"Her and Quil, we think," I replied, wincing.

The tree beside my head erupted into a downpour of busted fragments faster than I could track his flying fist. "You better be fucking joking."

Frustration and fear lit his feet on fire, and suddenly he couldn't stand still. I knew the feeling. His path cut jaggedly, each motion choppy, ending abruptly and beginning again in a new direction without any rhyme or reason. If I'd looked even half as insane as he did how, it was a wonder Embry had approached me at all. He muttered threatening profanities, but I didn't hear a word of it. My mind was with Bella, praying to any and all gods that we found her unscathed. For both of their sakes. I'd kill Quil myself if anything happened to her under his watch.

"How long," he demanded.

I shrugged, which was apparently the wrong response. His forearm dug into the well of my throat, constricting my Adam's apple as he pressed me against the same trunk he'd split with his knuckles. The tree scraped bloody trails into the skin of my back, and I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out. I wouldn't give him the sadistic satisfaction, not when he already had my entire world over on me.

I choked around the pressure as best I could. "I'm not the only one who wasn't paying attention."

"You think that makes it any better?" He spat.

"She's _your_ fucking imprint, you should have noticed before anyone." Acid spilled over each syllable, coating my trembling limbs. I shoved him with more force than I needed, and he stumbled backwards. Before he could rush me again, the snapping of twigs drew our hostile attention.

"I think he took her up the hill," Embry called as he glided into view. Naked feet froze dead in their tracks when he noticed Paul huffing beside me. Embry hadn't bothered to put his shorts back on, prepared to rush off, and crisp leaves formed a crown on his head. He didn't seem to mind, or notice. I felt a rush of relief.

"There's no way she'll get that far on foot," Paul decided. I could almost see the heat nipping at his skin as the wheels turned in his head. Whether he simply didn't want to believe it, or the pieces just hadn't clicked yet, Embry and I exchanged wary glances. Neither of us wanted to tell him that his mate was probably riding another wolf, but the discrepancies were more than distinct. The moment his shivering halted, it was clear that we wouldn't have to. Paul's menacing form was deadly still. Every inch of him seething beneath the calm illusion, a storm brewing cold. "I'm gonna kill that fucker."

"She was bound to go there sometime," Embry offered, clearly feeling braver than I was.

Paul flicked his gaze over the slender tracker, a threatening glint shadowing above his snarling lips. "Yeah," he bit through his teeth. "With _me._ "

Quil was done for. All of us had seen Paul's temper in action, one way or another. He was nearly unstoppable once he got going, his rage blazing so hot that one of Sam's orders couldn't reach him in that state. The full fire of his wrath uprooted his sanity, and it never ended well for whomever fell in its sights. Quil would come out of it luckier than most, but even with the quickened healing process, we'd probably be down a wolf for at least a few days once Paul finished with him. With matching resigned grimaces, Embry and I followed Paul's lead as he ripped through the forest, hell-bent on tearing our brother to pieces.

...

_**BELLA SWAN** _

One second, an instant. That was all it took to piece together exactly what had happened not too far away. Like a flipped switch, I felt every searing stab of malice. A torpedo, already half detonated, was approaching fast, and it was out for blood. Hungry with an appetite only destruction could slake.

"They've noticed," I whispered to Quil. He stiffened on the floor beside me, nodding slow.

"They'll be here pretty soon then," he examined with a sigh. There was an under-current of intention laying beneath the declaration, more so directed towards his grandfather than anyone else in the room. What surprised me was that there wasn't even a hint of regret on his round face, nor fear, and that was -while noble indeed- almost worse than what was to come. The hostility gnawing at the bond was overwhelming, to say the least, but I could tell that most of it wasn't directed at me. Nobody would consider my willing role in the matter. I wouldn't be held at fault, both Paul and Jacob would surely see to it. But that safety wasn't doled out equally. The elephant in the room knew how the brunt of the anger would fall on Quil's shoulders, and that he would take it with his usual, lighthearted flare. I got the sense everyone wrongly suspected that I would let him, that this secret trip was the only important matter at hand. They weren't completely off base, I had learned so much from Old Quil. First they'd tackled Young Quil's shocking imprint, deciding that it suited the purpose of blossoming his maturity, and teaching him how to care for someone else. It made the most sense. Then the attention had shifted to me while Quil pondered over that revelation. For nearly half an hour I had listened silently to the tribal histories, covering bases that often had nothing to do with the Wolves, but rather the culture of the people. I'd heard tales of brave and enlightened individuals, some still alive today. It was a privilege, but I wasn't naïve enough to think it wasn't all serving some higher purpose. Even with the looming threat of a prompt discovery, Old Quil had drawled over each syllable like he had all the time in the world. I supposed, though, that being one of the elite members in the tribal council meant you were swimming in the luxuries such as knowledge, respect, and comfort. He had an air about him that said he wasn't one people tended to show disrespect. Renowned reverence was only natural when you had been around as long as he had.

"Please go on," I pleaded, focusing intently on the old man. His eyes were wise, all-knowing, and he sat so still atop the fur covered rocking chair that it was almost inhuman. The enchanting lull behind his words told the tale of many year's practice.

"The next one is very personal to me," he began soberly. "My son was a fisherman, noble in his respect of the land. He never took in more than he knew what to do with, and every sacred part of the animal he found use for. His trade thrived because he was strong-willed, and refused to relent even when business was slow. He was the greatest fisherman this tribe had ever seen, even your own young father was no match." Old Quil winked at me with twinkling eyes, and I blushed. It was strange to think of Charlie as ever having been an adolescent. "It was what he loved, and so he used it to provide for his family. But he was foolish." His jaw clenched, and I suspected that this was a sensitive topic. For both of them. I gave my friend's hand a comforting squeeze. "One day, a magnificent storm welled low on the horizon. His wife and I warned him not to go, but he looked into the hopeful face of his infantile son and set out. To forge a better path for his legacy, he argued. That was the last anyone ever saw of him, though his canoe drifted to the shoreline several days later."

I dropped my glistening eyes to the floor, a remnant sadness settling that wasn't mine to bear. Quil had somehow managed to turn the years of lingering pain from never knowing his father into a bubbling charisma. His bountiful joy was astounding, and I admired him then, more than I had ever thought possible. "I'm sorry," I whispered. There was nothing else I could say.

"Ahh, but that brings us here," cheered the Elder. "For it is now young Quil who will succeed me." I gaped at him in confusion. "You see, it is our heritage to cherish the knowledge passed down from generations. We preserve our ways through written text, and by gifting our children with our unique language and practices. They learn with their eyes, watching those around them, their hands and feet, by doing, following. And, often, by word of mouth, as you are now."

I tried to picture goofy, carefree Quil Ateara sitting in place of the older man, speaking wisdom down upon me. It didn't turn out right, and I fought back a chuckle. Old Quil waited, patient and expecting.

The sharp set of their eyes on me was stifling. This was the part it had all been leading up to, and they weren't sure how, or if, it would be accepted. My brows pulled together. "But what does all that.. I mean, why am I here?"

"Because you might not be cut from the same cloth as your young Lahote," he hummed, clicking his tongue thoughtfully. "But your paths have been sewn together. Whatever that entails."

I chose to ignore the thrill of Paul being claimed as mine, focusing instead on the insinuation that I didn't quite belong otherwise. _Right_ , I wanted to say. Claire may only be a child, but I was the strange paleface imprint, and my actions would no doubt be under constant scrutiny. It didn't matter that I hadn't asked for this any more than Paul had.

"I have something to ask of you, a favor, you could say."

It wasn't what I imagined he would say. Where my forehead had been curling in on itself, it was now shooting to the moon. What could I possibly do? He reached beneath the chair then, his forearm disappearing into the hanging canopy of what looked to be the coat of a red fox draped over the seat. It emerged with a thick, beautiful leatherback book. That was when I knew that this man knew little to nothing about me, because one frail arm wound back, gently launching it into the air. The thing hurtled my way, straight for my face. I braced for an impact that never came, as Quil's arm shot out to snatch it midair.

"Grandpa," Quil scolded, spilling the pages over my lap. "You tryna kill her?"

"Even Claire could have caught that," the other cried defensively.

They continued to talk, words I didn't hear over the rush coursing through me. My fingers danced delicately over the tidy cluster of blank pages filled with endless possibilities. In the center of the spread, fine hand sewn seams winked up at me, and the wrinkled leather was of the softest I'd ever touched. I found myself lost in the spell, pure magic gleaming brightly in my sweat-slick palms. I narrowed my eyes up at Old Quil, hoping an explanation rested at the tip of his tongue.

"To write your experiences," he shrugged, eyeing me down. Something fierce flashed behind his retinas, gone quick as it had come. "We know less of the imprint than we care to admit."

Something Jared had mentioned, that distant night in my living, grew heavy over my conscience.

"Wait but, Sam, Jared, Paul. And now Quil. I thought imprinting was supposedly super rare?"

"So did we."

I pondered this. I could see why it would be a problem. It must be a pretty severe lack of information on their part, especially if it had led them to ask for help from someone like me just to bridge the deficit. Panic latched itself into every vein in my body, and Paul's presence made itself known in the yard. Focus, I begged my fickle thoughts. I weeded tediously through the overwhelming urge to run through the doorway, uncertain if I should move further from or towards the man I'd find there. Deep in the defeated caverns of my mind I was shocked to realize that I had already agreed. It was a specific type of thrill to be included in ancient histories, in the pack, and another to actively contribute. To have my stories shared with future generations, and have them help the next wave of wolves and their imprints wade through these unknown tides. When I spoke, I could see that he knew I was on board without me ever needing to say the words. There was only question I could think of.

"What do I write?"

"All of it."

Thunder shook the walls and rattled the windows as the front door was stripped nearly from its hinges. I practically jumped from my perch on the floor, though the Quils seemed relatively unperturbed. Paul rushed through first, a livid man on a lethal mission. Embry pattered behind, followed quickly by Jacob, all three stark naked. The once comforting space suddenly seemed infinitely too small. Unforgiving brown orbs, tight in the corners, scanned the room until settling on their brother. All it took were two long strides, and in the blink of an eye, Paul was upon him. A shrill squawk pierced through the relaxed cottage, out of place in the quaint abode, as venomous fingers encircled Quil's throat. His feet left the ground and his skin took on a blueish hue as they wrestled out to the porch. I tried desperately to follow, only to be stopped by a warm hand on my wrist. I turned to find the Elder on his feet, his eyes searching mine as they inflicted a frozen state upon my hurried limbs.

"You mustn't tell the others," he whispered. There was an urgency to it, far greater than even the violent ongoing. "Your experience is remarkably untainted by what we thought we knew, use it."

His grip slipped away, and I was scrambling out the door as though my life depended on it. Running into the scene on the grass was like running through water. Earth had slowed its rotation to a pitiful crawl, a nightmarish monster I couldn't quite outrun. Paul, for as long as I'd known him, had been mostly a stranger, but never menacingly so. His presence loomed in the background while his reputation took center stage. I was fairly undeterred by all the harsh criticism, which boasted an unruly, overactive temper, several counts of bar room brawls, and a tendency to finish a conversation with a quick fist, all even before phasing. They'd said that it only got worse once his bloodline had caught up with him, and that it made him ever more dangerous. In spite of the warnings, I hadn't been afraid. That he was as tethered to most of the people I loved as he was to me meant he was never a threat. I had been provided with no solid evidence that I should fear Paul Lahote, and so, naïvely, I hadn't. But he was no saint, I could see now. He wasn't just a protector, Paul was also a punisher. There was blood and fire raging beneath his cheeks in a way that brought that stoic gaze to life. He wasn't just beating Quil, he was enjoying it. He had his brother pinned in the dirt beneath him, using his legs as a cage, raining a merciless flurry of fists up him. Each hit landed with a sickening thud resembling a large slab of meat slapping wetly on a bare countertop. To my absolute horror, Quil was quickly becoming less and less recognizable through the blood. I leapt from the porch, stumbling as my feet hit the grass. Despite logic, or sensibility, I found myself running directly towards the most dangerous threat to my safety. As usual.

"Paul, stop!" I screamed. He didn't. "You're killing him!"

Jacob called out my name, but it was Embry's much closer arms that snatched me backwards, his chest pressing hard against my struggling back.

"Embry he's killing him," I whimpered.

The sharp crunch of knuckle on bone snaked itself around my vocal chords. This couldn't happen. It was all my fault, and I couldn't let him hurt Quil. So I began to fight, lashing out savagely with everything I had. My limbs seemed to scramble in all different ways, and I could hear Embry pleading with me. But Quil was my best friend too, and I'd sooner die in a wolf fight than lose anybody else that I loved. I forced my body into a twist, a wholly unanticipated maneuver, and broke free. By all means, it was impossible, but Embry was softer towards me than the others. He'd rather let go than unintentionally harm me with his crushing strength, a feat I'd shamelessly exploited. In several bounds I would be close enough to reach out and touch Paul, but Jacob's form blurred into my peripheral as he raced to intercept me. I did the only thing I could think to do, something reckless and stupid and utterly insane;

I dove on top of Paul, slamming the full force of my tiny form into his quivering back. My arms curled around his body and over his rippled chest, and I clung on for dear life. I squeezed, futile and weak, as a string of broken pleas flooded past my lips. I sung a woeful chorus of _'stop it_ **'** and _'don't do this'_ and _''I-love-him-I-love-him-I-love-him!'_

I wailed and sobbed until warmth surrounded me, and I began to sway in rhythmic waves. I realized that he'd turned into me, and I was in Paul's arms. I was his weakness, kryptonite equivalent to the devil incarnate, and he was rocking me gently. Back and forth, repeating. One of us was trembling violently, though it was impossible to say whom. I didn't think I wanted to know at this point. For a moment there was nothing but us, a pile of relief and tension and the melding of skin. The world faded away, the blood from his knuckles staining my yellow sweater. Until Quil's groaning ripened into agonized bawling. There was a burbling sound, like fluid clogging a drain, and it mortified me to realize it was coming from Quil's throat. I shoved my way free and scuttled to his side.

"Oh my god.. Quil," I choked. I stroked back his soaked hair, streaks of red painting lines behind my fingertips.

His battered lips parted, crimson staining his ivory teeth. "B-b-..Bell.."

"I'm right here, I'm here." I hushed him, offering what little comfort I could. "Somebody do something!"

Embry seemed conflicted, helplessly glancing between Paul and Jacob as though waiting for directions. Paul hadn't moved, his arms open wide from where I'd ripped away. The conflicting arms that had tenderly held me, the same ones that had summoned hell upon someone I loved

"DO SOMETHING!"

The command spurred them into action, and Jacob was suddenly kneeling on the other side of Quil's body. His eyes carefully picked apart the damage, assessing the plethora of wounds He cast a meaningful look over my shoulder, probably at Embry, and shook his head in one short motion. It wasn't good.

"Can you move him?" I whispered, unsure where to take him. Jake refused to meet my eyes, and I felt my jaw clamp tight. I stooped low and buried my face into the curly locks in my hands "It's gonna be okay, Quil, alright? You're going to be just fine."

I started to lean back, but his fist bunched into the mustard cotton of my sweatshirt. His voice was so low, I doubted even the supernaturally gifted heard it.

"G-gran..fath..th.."

I peered deep into the one eye that wasn't swollen shut, nodding my understanding. Without a word I hopped to my feet, turning on the ball of my heel. Embry was nowhere in sight, and Paul was murmuring lowly into a cell phone. I tried not to feel sick realizing it was mine, probably discarded in the tussle with Embry. I marched up to the door, and it swung open. Old Quil bustled outside with a large, flat block of wood balanced in his grip. The edges dipped sharply upwards to hold everything in place. I took it from him, noting several salves probably made from dried plants native to the area. There was also a large bowl of water, gauze, rubbing alcohol, bandages, and what looked like a large sewing needle littering the tray. Taking tedious care not to make a mess of the open liquids, I fell in step behind the medicine man, wondering how confident he was in his patchwork abilities. He knelt on shaky limbs, bracing himself on his leg, then the ground, until he was level with his grandson. I set his tools down beside him. Like Jacob had done, he took a moment to review the damage, signaling his drawing of some unknown conclusion with a wet click of his tongue.

"Run in and get me a cloth, girl."

I bit my tongue before I could ask where he kept them. The man had his work cut out for him, the least I could do was find a towel on my own. I sprinted into the house, nearly colliding with Embry in the tiny kitchen. I would forever be grateful that he'd already taken the time to get dressed.

"Woah, woah Bella. What are you looking for," he asked, his tone rich and soothing. I wanted to uppercut him for the audacity of it.

"Cloths," I snarled. Embry leaned back on his heels, pensive in his regarding of me.

He reached into a drawer beside the oven, as far back as it went, and pulled out several worn rags. The wiry muscles in his arm were tense as he held them out. I nodded my appreciation, but my eyes remained cold as winter. He and Jacob had let this happen. This was as much their fault as it was Paul's. As it was mine, for coming here in the first place. I simmered, allowing the full flavors of my anger time to marinate while I rushed outside and made myself useful. My hands were vessels at the whim of the Elder. He dabbed away as much of the blood as he could, the warm water both soothing and cleansing the rapidly healing boy. As he wound the needle through the most pressing of gashes, Quil hissed, reaching out blindly to thread his fingers through mine. I clasped on tight, more than willing to pose as a lifeline. Old Quil made quick work of it, though his lines were steady and even. I tried to ignore the déjà vu of the scene, stomping down the agony in my gut as I pictured hands of porcelain stone weaving my flesh back together. Like Carlisle, it was blatantly clear that he'd done this before. Recalling how nonchalantly he'd put together his tray of medical supplies, I wondered if tending to this level of carnage was something he'd often had to do following Paul's company. To my surprise, he stopped after closing several wounds, laying a wet cloth over Quil's forehead before setting out again to simply clean his skin.

"You're not going to do the rest?" The doubt pronounced even to my own ears.

He shook his head like we were talking about the weather. "No need."

As he struggled to his feet, I offered my arm in aid, which he took. I gawked down at the limp form in the dirt, unsettled. There was about eight different things I could see that he needed, and I wasn't even medically trained. Before I could protest, a silver Honda came spluttering up the obscured driveway. Sam's face hovered over the dashboard, grim and frowning as he usually was. Beside him in the driver's seat was a woman I vaguely remembered from my childhood. I knew that she was Harry Clearwater's wife, though I couldn't place a name to her familiar face. The pair appeared to argue, before glancing out opposite windows. The car rumbled into silence. They both slunk from the car with unimaginable grace, the woman reaching into the backseat for a small tote bag. I was unreasonably embarrassed, in the way that comes from fondly recognizing somebody who never noticed your existence in the first place. Around her the air buzzed with confidence, and, as she drew nearer, I saw that she was still just as beautiful as I would have pictured her. Clearly, aging followed a different rhythm here in La Push. She took one look at Quil and whistled a low curse under her breath.

"You weren't kidding," she murmured, her attention shifting to Paul. He shuffled his feet sheepishly. "You boys go find some pants, why don't you? I'll get started here."

The naked bodies drifted slowly away, back into the treeline. Old Quil winked up at me, before his voice morphed into the same lulling sirens call that had me so effortlessly under his direction. Embry's lanky form silhouetted my peripheral, a steaming mug of foul-smelling tea balancing in one palm.

"Sue Clearwater," he whispered, leaning towards me in a conspiratorial manner.

I nodded, the puzzle clicking into place. "You know me too well," I chuckled, forgetting I was upset. "So she knows?"

"Harry is on the Council." He shrugged, as if that explained everything. "She's the tribe doctor, and since we can't go to a regular hospital.."

He waved his hand vaguely, stuffing his fingers into his pockets. The longer we stood in silence, the easier it was to remember how pissed I was. Embry seemed conscious of it too, and he sighed. It was a feathery, defeated sound that did nothing to ebb my frustration.

"You could have stopped it," I accused, refusing to look at him.

"It wouldn't have ended well."

A bitter laugh split through my teeth. "Right, because this was such a happy ending."

"Come on Bella," he pleaded. His eyes burned into the side of my skull, but I stubbornly stared forwards. "We've tried stopping him when he gets like that before, and it always makes things ten times worse."

"I don't see how that could have gone worse," I muttered dryly.

His voice dropped to a pained murmur. "Yeah, and be grateful for that."

I gazed up at him, shocked. My lips parted, but I snapped my head around at the sudden clearing of a throat nearby. Paul's loaded stare clawed deep tracks up my spine, leaving every nerve and hair on edge. I was afraid of him, and he knew it too. His arm lifted as his gaze fell, my silver cellphone looking impossibly small in his outstretched palm. I hesitated, biting a rut on the inside of my cheek. It was Embry who plucked it from his hand, slipping it to me, and I felt every crashing wave of Paul's sunken spirits. Without a word, he stalked off, and I'd never been more riddled with guilt in my entire life.

Embry's words were soft. "Look.. I've been in his head Bells. He'd never hurt you, you know."

"Sure, sure.." I eyed the waterproof protective phone case my father had insisted I buy, a perfectly preserved hand print in striking crimson wrapping the entire way around it.


End file.
